


The Dragon's Circle

by finem



Series: Emrys Rising [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Big Bang Challenge, Bullying, Community: paperlegends, M/M, Magic, Male Slash, Male-Female Friendship, Military, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:36:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 68,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finem/pseuds/finem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>::Revised:: Camelot University is both the safest and most dangerous place for Merlin to hide while he waits for his magic to mature.  One term; it's all he has to last, and then he can take his rightful place in the magical community and get to the heart of why magic is fading in the world.  One term of laying low, keeping to himself, and getting ready for what is to come.  It's a solid plan...until Arthur Pendragon steps into the picture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo...This is a revised version of this story. Mostly the changes are minor, but I did pretty much re-write Chapter 7. For those who read this story when it was originally posted in 2012, there are no major changes to the plot. 
> 
> I'll be completely honest. I fell out of this fandom around the beginning of last year, leaving this series incomplete despite my promises to finish the story. That grates on me though, so I've begun this revision process with the intent to touch things up so that I can finish the tale. To those who are still with me, thank you and I'm so very sorry for the delay. To those new to Emrys Rising, welcome, and I hope you enjoy the ride.

Merlin took several slow, calming breaths as he stepped into the mist of morning on his first day of lectures at Camelot U. He’d been on campus for several days, settling into his room, but this was the first time he’d seen the walkways and stretches of carefully manicured lawn populated with anything other than freshmen and subwardens. The return of the greater student population left him fighting off panic.

He’d known, going in, that Camelot University was a school for the elite; knew that only the smartest or richest were accepted and that it was no small miracle that he was counted among them. But years of home schooling and moving from place to place left him mostly ignorant of the kind of opulence he was now witnessing. His careful plans to blend in and get by for the next three months slowly crumbled as he stepped into a world that he thought only existed on television or in magazines.

The parking lot was full of brightly colored sports cars, each one full of equally brightly colored people; young, beautiful, and dressed in wardrobes that were probably worth more money than Merlin had seen in his entire life combined. Everywhere he looked there were smartphones or tablets or some other outlandish electronic device, all buzzing with trace amounts of magic, which spoke more than anything to how much such devices were worth. There were girls draped in brands and logos that his simple upbringing didn’t quite recognize, guys with gleaming watches and shoes that seemed far too flashy for a university campus. But that was the clue. This was a world where logos and shiny shoes were an armor of sorts. Defense against scrutiny, camouflage in a sea of privilege.

Merlin had no such protections. These were predators, and it would only take an instant for them to mark him as different and therefore prey. He could already see it happening. He walked across the sprawling stretch of grass, dotted here and there with trees, and could feel their eyes on him. The trek to the main entrance was a gauntlet of smirks and whispers, the words “scholarship student” following him like a persistent breeze. He knew. He already knew that even though his mother had spent more than she could afford to buy him “nice” clothes for school, the khaki trousers, pale blue button up, and argyle sleeveless jumper did nothing to hide his humble beginnings. He wasn’t like the rest of them. Blending was not an option.

He bit back an irritated sigh, teeth clenched as he resigned himself to his fallback plan. If fitting in with the rest of the student population wasn’t going to work, his only option would be to go invisible. Tuck his head, keep a low profile, and try to be as unobtrusive as possible. Avoid attention at all cost.

“I can handle that,” Merlin reasoned to himself, adjusting his rucksack on his shoulder. “It’s only fall term. I’m sure I can manage to control my big mouth for that long.” Not that he had a choice. There was entirely too much at stake for him to ruin everything because his brain-mouth filter had a knack for failing him at the most inopportune moments.

He drew in another fortifying breath and continued forward as casually as he could, taking strength from the warm plus of power emanating from the school’s central garden. He allowed himself a secret smile at that. The rest of these people may think that they ruled the school, but none of them knew the secret he knew. Camelot was a school for Mundanes. None of them knew the significance of the grounds upon which the campus stood or its magical history.

His first lecture would begin in half an hour and he wanted to grab a quick cuppa before making his way to the science building. Of course, this meant he had to find the little coffee shop Gaius had told him about first. He just hoped that the dragon statue he’d been told of as a landmark was really as impossible to miss as his godfather claimed.

He took in the school’s architecture as he walked, making a point to ignore the judgmental eyes that surrounded him in favor of admiring the beauty of the place. The main building of the campus was actually an honest to goodness castle, situated in the sprawling hills of the lush countryside. More buildings had been added surrounding the central citadel, all modeled off of the original architecture, so that stepping onto the school grounds felt a lot like stepping back in time. In Merlin’s mind’s eye, the students milling about the lawn could have easily been lords and ladies; the noble knights and fair maidens that his father used to read to him about when he was young.

The majority of the buildings were made up of white stone, accented by blue tiles for the roofs and awnings. The entrance to the main quad was a huge archway, decorated with intricate carvings of small white dragons and various representations of academia that Merlin suspected were added when the space was converted. There were other, smaller passages that led in and out of the quad, but they were far less impressive. As it was his first day, Merlin wanted to take in the big and obvious; save the smaller ones for later exploration when he needed the time alone to think. He had a sneaking suspicion that the semester would not be an easy one.

He knew that he was adding to his bumpkin persona by gaping up at the structures like a tourist, but he also couldn’t be arsed to care. These people were going to judge him no matter what he did, so he was going to enjoy the bloody architecture if he damn well pleased.

It was thusly, mouth gaping and eyes focused up, that he first encountered Gwaine Roderick.

The situation would have been funny, really, if it had happened to any other two people. Or even if Merlin had bumped in to, for instance, another fresher, or at least a bloke who wasn’t the embodiment of several of Merlin’s wet-dreams poured into denim and wool. As it stood, it was Gwaine who was walking out of the quad with a steaming cup in hand, eyes focused on his mobile just when Merlin was attempting to step into the quad, mind focused on the carvings and the masonry and wondering at the logic of making an archway so big. Neither saw the other, so the collision was inevitable.

The part that made Merlin sure that some higher powers were playing a sick, sick joke on him was not when Gwaine’s steaming cup of joe exploded between them, but rather when the majority of said joe found its way directly to Merlin’s crotch.

He was not proud of the very undignified sound that escaped his mouth, but nor could he control it, hand flying straight to his man-bits as invasive, burning heat soaked straight through the thin fabric of his trousers and pants. He might as well have not been wearing anything at all.

“Christ!” he screeched, pulling at his trousers in a vain attempt to protect the possibility of him having children someday, “What were you drinking, molten lava?!”

“Bad luck, mate.” The voice that responded sent an entirely different kind of heat straight to his crotch. Merlin’s eyes shot up and he had to fight very hard not to will the ground to open up and swallow him whole. You know...just in case it actually did.

“All right?” Gwaine, asked offering a couple of napkins and a winning smile. Of course, Merlin hadn’t known his name at the time, so all his mind could manage was a litany of _hairscruffeyesmuscles fuck!stop clutchingyourdick! smells nice._ Because Gwaine was definitely one of those beautiful people the school seemed to be entirely populated with, and Merlin really wasn’t that worried about losing the ability to have children because his preferences didn’t make such a thing very likely anyway.

Merlin realized that he was actually expected to answer the question when his walking fantasy continued standing there watching him, napkins held out. He finally managed to unhand his crotch.

“Yeah!” Merlin replied after enough time had passed to make the situation awkward for both of them. “Sorry. I should have been watching where I was going.”

“That makes two of us,” Gwaine said, ducking his head and scratching his brow with one finger, eyes falling to Merlin’s crotch. Heat raised to Merlin’s cheeks even though he knew that the other man was just looking at the stain. “But I, at least, was on my way out. You gonna have to walk around like that long?”

“Shit!” Merlin hissed, groaning at how pathetically cliche his first day was shaping up to be. He didn’t have time to get back to his dorm, change, and get back before his lecture began, and if he was late on the first day, he would lose his seat. His only option was to go to his lecture looking like he’d wet himself. When had his life become a B rate comedy?

“Hey, no worries,” Gwaine’s voice cut through his thoughts. There was the sound of a button popping then a zipper being undone. Merlin’s eyes shot up just in time to see Gwaine slip his own jeans down his legs and step out of them. “Like I said, I’m on my way out. You need them more than I do.”

Merlin could only stare, lost in shock and sudden arousal. Gwaine smirked at him, apparently amused. He handed Merlin his stonewashed jeans then turned to walk away. That was enough to break the spell and Merlin finally managed to get his head out of his arse.

“I’m Merlin,” he called after the stranger’s boxer-brief-clad behind. The other man kept walking without pause or break in his stride, but did flash a supermodel smile over his shoulder before calling back,

“Gwaine.”

“Gwaine,” Melin repeated the name quietly, enjoying the feel of it on his tongue. The prospect of three months at Camelot U. had suddenly become a whole lot more interesting.

As it turned out, the “other dragon statue” that Gaius had referred to was indeed quite difficult to miss. It wasn’t like the Great Dragon that protected the school’s central garden, and for that Merlin was grateful. It would be hard enough to focus while in such close proximity to a source of that much concentrated energy. He didn’t know what he would do if there were more than one. Still, it was a rather impressive sight; tall and proud, facing out the quad’s entrance, towards the central garden where the Great Dragon could be seen, past the lawn, guarding the garden’s Northern gate.

This statue was clearly just that; a statue. It had no pull, no power _._ Nothing like what Merlin had felt in the presence of the larger statue. This one was simple stone, nestled in a circular patch of grass, clearly meant to mimic the look and feel of the other garden. The Dragon’s Garden; the heart of the field of energy known to the magical community as the Dragon’s Circle.

A chill moved down his spine at the memory of that first day when he’d arrived at Camelot. How Gaius had taken him to the dragon. How thick the air was with magic as he’d approached. The beast had seemed almost alive, as if at any moment its arching neck would stretch, its tail would lash, and it would cry fire and fury into the sky. As he stood there, Merlin’d had the unsettling feeling that the dark stones that made up the sculpture’s eyes were watching him, waiting and judging somehow. It had been all that he could do to keep the power he held carefully in check from reaching out to the statue, testing the dragon to see what secrets it held.

This block of stone was a pale imitation. Large, but not nearly as large. Detailed, but not nearly as immaculate in craftsmanship. Merlin reached out a hand to touch the carving without fear, tasting the stone through its connection to the earth. Feeling the lingering power in it, and taking comfort in knowing that magic still seemed to be thriving in this place at least.

“You’re not planning to be here long, are you?”

Merlin’s attention snapped immediately from the dragon to find that he was being watched by another student. Male, blond, and radiating an air of “fuck off,” Merlin knew that he would have to tread carefully with this one. However, with one look, Merlin also knew that the stranger wasn’t like the others at the school. There were no logos or devices to be seen, and if it weren’t for the stack of text books at his side, Merlin would have guessed that one of the locals from town had wandered onto campus.

“What?” Merlin asked in reply to the statement.

“Standing there stroking a statue with a stain on your front like you pissed yourself. I hope you’re not planning to stay long, because the rate you’re going, you won’t last the week.”

If mortification could be a color, Merlin imagined that his face was achieving it at record speeds. “I-I was looking for the loo,” he stammered out, quickly covering the stain with the now crumpled jeans in his hand. The blond rolled his eyes but, obligingly, gestured with his head. Merlin hurried in the indicated direction, ears practically glowing with heat. How could he have gotten distracted enough to forget about his trouser situation?!

It only took him a few minutes to change. Gwaine’s jeans were a little short, but they fit well enough. A far sight better than his khakis at least. He carefully folded them to wash later and shoved them into his rucksack, very conscious of the fact that most of the other students at the school would likely have tossed them. Yet another reminder of the chasm that existed between Merlin and the rest of the CU student population. He couldn’t afford to waste a perfectly good pair of trousers over a bit of spilled coffee.

The blond was still there when he returned, lounging on the grass beside one of the dragon’s claws, smoking.

“You’re here on scholarship too, aren’t you?” was the first thing that came from Merlins mouth. The question earned him a dry laugh in reply.

“Give the lad a prize,” the blond drawled, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “You sure you’re in the right place, kiddo? You look a little young for uni.”

Merlin huffed, offended. Who was this brash stranger to judge whether he belonged there or not? They both appeared to be in similar positions, so it seemed as if the bloke by the dragon was as close to an equal as Merlin was like to find in the entire school. A fact that gave him the courage to snap back:

“I’m old enough. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“You’re right, it’s not,” the blond readily agreed. He finished his smoke and flicked the butt away before climbing to his feet, collecting his things. “Good luck, fresher.” He tossed over his shoulder walking away. Merlin was left wondering at the strange encounter. The blond man needn’t have bothered saying anything to Merlin at all if he was going to be so rude about it. But then again, he supposed that in a small way the stranger had helped him out. It looked like just one other mystery that Merlin was going to have to deal with in this brave new world.

Except fortune seemed to be smiling on Merlin in strange ways on his first day. He made it to his first lecture with time to spare, stepping into the room and bracing himself for the discomfort inherent in any new situation. It had been a very long time since Merlin had set foot into an institution of formal education, but he would never forget what the first day of school always felt like. The insecurity. The question of where to sit. The hope of finding a familiar face amongst the crowd of other students. In this case, Merlin was not expecting to have any luck on that last front, but to his mild surprise, there was a familiar face amongst the sea of logos. The blond from the dragon was sitting in one of the back corners of the lecture hall, slouched in his seat ignoring everyone else. Merlin gauged his options, glancing between the bloke from the dragon and the rest of the students, all radiating posh and entitlement. Not exactly a difficult choice to make. He began navigating his way up and across the room.

“I’m Merlin,” he said taking a seat next to the blond.

“Will,” came the brief response. Will never took his eyes from the small mobile he was fidgeting with. Unlike the others in the room, Will’s was a battered looking flip phone that probably had its origin sometime around the latest turn of the century. Of course Merlin wasn’t one to judge. He couldn’t afford a mobile at all.

“You’re cute, fresher, but I don’t swing that way.”

Merlin jumped slightly at the words. “What?”

“You’re staring,” Will sighed, slipped the mobile in to a pocket and turned resigned eyes to Merlin. “You’ll want to stop doing that if you want to keep your head here.”

“What do you mean?”

“These rich wankers,” he gestured to the filling lecture hall with his chin. “they only understand the language of money. They catch you staring like that, it’s like begging them to come at you. They can’t help it, see? ‘S in their blood. I’m only telling you this ‘cause not a lot of us make it in, and even fewer make it through.”

Merlin knew that by “us” Will meant other scholarship students. Others who didn’t have the money to afford Camelot U outright and could only hope to get in based on their brains. CU had the largest Etic Arcanology program in the nation, and in a world where powerful magic was becoming harder and harder to come by, companies who depended on that magic were desperate for experts in the field. Seeing as such companies were usually big money makers, those who survived the rigorous coursework and made it to graduation were basically guaranteed high paying work immediately thereafter.

Between the campus R&D Labs pumping out theories on magic synthesis and the University Officer Training Corps training in the latest techniques in magical defense, Camelot had become a source of hope for magic’s survival to the non-magic world. Something that Merlin looked on with bleak irony as he knew the school’s Chancellor to be one of the greatest magic haters there could be. He knew that with natural magic’s decline, even sorcerers were beginning to explore other avenues for solutions.

 _Especially since their leader hasn’t shown his thick head,_ Merlin thought glumly.

His mind was pulled from darker musings by a commotion at the front of the room. There was a sudden shift in tension, the air becoming charged with anticipation. Heads turned to the entrance, and some of the gaggles of clustered students began speaking excitedly amongst themselves.

“Oh, bugger,” Will said under his breath and shifted lower in his seat. Merlin had no idea what was happening.

Then a Grecian god entered the room.

Or at least that’s what it seemed like to Merlin. A wave of whispers passed through the crowd at the young man’s entrance, all cock-sure swagger. He was fit. Tall, with broad shoulders, and clothes clearly tailored to hug and accentuate the firm, defined planes of his body. His hair was the color of honey, and eyes a crystalline blue that Merlin could see even from his place high up on the opposite side of the room. His throat went suddenly dry and there was a passing thought that Gwaine had just earned some competition for a starring role in his wet dreams.

“Staring,” Will hissed at him, and Merlin immediately averted his eyes before those icy blues swept the room. Even without looking directly, Merlin could feel the proprietary weight of scrutiny as the man surveyed the lecture hall like it was his personal domain. Other students approached him with a certain deference, but the blond ignored them largely in favor of sitting with a couple of other blokes near the front.

“Who is that?” Merlin asked, unsure of why his voice was shaking but sure that the blond man who had just entered was the most dangerous of all the predators at the school.

“Arthur Pendragon. Chancellor’s son.” Will told him shortly. There was a tight note in his voice that Merlin wanted to question but didn’t dare. “Stay clear of him,” Will warned. “He’s the last enemy you’ll ever make.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Acknowledgements: 
> 
> Just wanted to give a shot out to some of my sources of inspiration for this world. I started writing this with the intent of it being a Merlin version of Hana Yori Dango. It morphed into a beast of it's own, but there are enough similarities that I'm sure those in the know can see it. There are very mild hints of Avatar: TLA in there too...sort of, along with an amalgamation of other fantasy tales that I've read over the years I'm sure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is an idiot.

Will didn’t say much more on the topic of Arthur Pendragon for the remainder of the lecture, but he didn’t really have to. His silence said enough. Merlin hadn’t known Will long enough to make any extensive judgements on his character, but from the interactions they’d had, he got the distinct impression that Will was not someone easily cowed. There had been a complete shift in his personality since Pendragon’s appearance, however.

Will kept his eyes determinedly focused forward on the lecturer for the entire fifty minutes, taking copious notes and ignoring all else. Merlin fell into the same pattern, taking the opportunity to listen and learn what Camelot was teaching the non-magical community about magic. It was a fascinating experience to say the least.

The course was called “Introduction to Arcane Theory.” It was essentially a class meant to teach the “science of magic,” an oxymoron if Merlin had ever heard one. A syllabus was handed out, and Merlin scanned the topics that were meant to be covered during the term; “The Origin of Arcane Energies,” “Arcane Power in Human History,” “Beginning Power Theory,” “Basic Arcane Vectors...” The list went on and on, talking about magic as if it could so easily be distilled into some kind of mathematical equation. They were treating it like physics, or chemistry, both of which did have parallels to the way magic worked at times, but it was far more complex than that.

There were other things, too. Comments typed so casually into unit explanations that the implications were barely there. Things like “The effects and treatment of long-term exposure to arcane energies,” or “Identifying the sorcerers around you.” Speaking of magic like an ailment that needed to be cured, describing sorcerers as individuals who needed to be identified. It came as no shock to Merlin as Camelot did belong to Uther Pendragon, but the subtle, insidious nature of the message was disturbing. “Magic is dangerous.” “Beware of sorcerers.” It began at the introductory level, and Merlin could only imagine how bad the propaganda against magic and its users became for those studying the subject in depth. The whole situation made him feel ill.

At the end of the lecture, Will quickly packed his things and headed straight for the exit, even before the lecture was officially dismissed. Merlin hesitated for a moment, but the decision was already made, really. If there was anyone in the school likely to become an ally, Will was it. Even if it came off as a bit desperate, Merlin wouldn’t pass up the chance to gain some strength in numbers.

“Will!” he called, hurrying after the blond. “Hey!" 

“What?” Will all but snapped at him, striding resolutely towards the nearest exit.

“I just, um,” Merlin was practically jogging to keep up, “I wanted to thank you. You’ve really helped me out today and you didn’t have to.”

Will halted in his walking at that. “And that’s exactly the kind of shit that’s going to get you eaten alive here,” he hissed. “You want some advice, hm? Want some ‘help’? Leave. Now. Come back when your balls have dropped. You’ll need them if you expect to survive this place.”

“What’s this, then? A lover’s spat? And on the first day of term? That’s no way to start off the year!”

The voice could have belonged to anyone. That particular pitch of arrogance, full of the confidence that comes hand-in-hand with entitlement was common at Camelot. But there was no mistaking Will’s response. The way all of his muscles tensed and his jaw clenched. Merlin was almost certain that he’d heard something in his face crack.

“Fuck off, Pendragon,” Will growled without turning to face the other blond. Merlin had no such sense. He turned his head and flushed, dazzled by the full force of Arthur Pendragon at point-blank range. He was even more impressive up close. Hair stylishly tussled, jaw clean shaven, body fit as fuck. It would all be quite appealing if it weren’t for the gleam of malicious delight shining in those ice-blue eyes.

“Oh, come now William,” Arthur said, all friendly cheer and flashing smiles. His hands were deep in his pockets as he strode forward to step in front of Will. “You’re not still cross with me about our little game last spring, are you? It was clearly not ill intended.” His tone and demeanor shifted very suddenly. “Since you’re obviously still here.”

It was as if a cloud had drifted over the sun. Arthur had gone from friendly, almost welcoming, to completely menacing between one breath and the next. There were others around now. Other students watching and sneering at the scene as it unfolded. Some of them had eyes focused on Will and were stepping up behind Arthur, sending a clear message and threat to Will’s resolutely not cowering form. It was like watching a pack of wolves scent their prey. All clamoring behind their alpha, awaiting orders, ready to pounce, and devour, and pick bones clean.

“It’s probably for the best, really.” Arthur continued, tone light, but body projecting every bit the predator that he was. “Your little friend seems to have vanished, but the lads and I, we still need our training. And it would seem that you still need to learn your place!” The last was accented with a smack to the side of Will’s head. Will flinched away, but that only got their audience laughing.

Merlin wasn’t sure if this was real. He’d heard that bullying happened, but he thought that people were supposed to have gotten past that by the time they got to uni. He couldn’t comprehend that something like this was happening right in front of his eyes.

“Alright, my friend, you’ve made your point.”

The words were out of his mouth before Merlin even knew that he was going to speak. One moment he was standing, invisible, amongst the crowd of onlookers, the next he was instigating himself between the pack leader and Will, hands raised in a gesture meant to be disarming.

Pendragon actually smiled in Merlin’s face and laughed.

“This is pathetic even for you, William!” he mocked. “Letting your girlfriend fight your battles now?”

Air was hissing, in and out, between Will’s teeth, and Merlin could feel the heat of Will’s temper burning all along his back. But it would seem that he’d made his bed, and Merlin knew from experience that the only real option he had now was to lay in it and hope he could figure out a way to get comfortable when he was up to his ears in shit.

Pendragon was still smiling at him, but it wasn’t as pleasant a look on him as it should have been. There was something calculating, almost cruel about his expression, and just why Merlin thought that the look should have been more pleasant wasn’t something he was in a place to analyse very deeply at the moment.

“You’re the new one, aren’t you?” Pendragon asked. He closed his eyes, tilting his head in concentration for a moment before opening them again, glee all but shining from his face. “Ambrose. Merlin. New scholarship student. Reading Metaphysics and Preternatural Phenomena.”

Merlin would not have been able to hide his shock even if he’d wanted to. “H-how did you know that?” he asked, completely gobsmacked.

“I’m the chancellor’s son,” Pendragon sneered. “It’s my business to know when there are potential threats to the legacy of excellence my father has worked years to create at this institution.”

It took a moment for Merlin to fully register the insult, but once he did, he felt his face flush with fury and inexplicable shame. That should have been his warning to stand down. He was supposed to be laying low. Staying out of trouble. A confrontation with the son of Uther Pendragon, one of the people he’d been told explicitly to avoid at all costs, was almost as far from what he was meant to be doing as humanly possible apart from declaring himself a sorcerer in front of the chancellor himself.

But of course, this was Merlin. And Merlin already knew that his tragic flaw was his mouth that could not help but always speak out of turn.

“Well, I may not have suckled on a golden teat from birth,” his mouth said, “but at least I managed to avoid the golden stick up my ass and personality to go with.”

Pendragon looked at him as though Christmas had come early. “What did you just say?" 

“I said that you’re a stuck-up ass,” Merlin replied, too amazed with himself to stop now. “With gold.”

Pendragon actually laughed at this. Arms crossing, Will completely forgotten by now. “You know you can’t talk to me like that.”

“I figured it was probably a bad idea.”

Pendragon smacked him on the shoulder, grinning like a loon as he roughly shouldered passed. “You are an idiot.” Merlin would never figure out how Pendragon managed to convey threat and delight in that particular statement. He turned his attention to a pair of his mates that Merlin recognized from their lecture and repeated the works, scorn oozing from them this time. “He’s an idiot.”

Merlin was so focused on the departing figures that he was doubly startled by the smack that hit him on the back of the head coming from behind. Will was scowling like never before, storming off in a seething rage. He spat a parting message over his shoulder.

“He’s right! You _are_ an idiot!” 

The university’s main dining hall was located between the campus proper and the residence halls across from the Western gate of the Central Garden. It made a lot of sense as students who lived on campus were able to grab a bite on the way to and from lessons. After his spectacular introduction to the youngest Pendragon and Will’s abandonment due to him being too stupid to even look at anymore, Merlin found himself dragging his books and bag to the canteen for lunch. The place was not too crowded this time of day as it was a bit early yet for the lunch crowd.

Merlin was still new enough and wrapped safely enough in anonymity that he didn’t even bother looking for familiar faces. The only people he’d met, really, were Gwaine, Will, and the subwarden who’d checked him into his room at the beginning of the week, and he wasn’t exactly expecting to run into any of them again any time soon. Except, really, considering the kind of luck he’d been having that day, he honestly should have been. True to form, as soon as he stepped towards a table to sit, he was interrupted by the sound of someone calling his name rather excitedly.

“Merlin!” the voice implored, so he looked to the left, from whence the voice was calling, to yet again find a familiar face that he hadn’t been expecting. 

“Gwen, right?” he asked, certain of the name but asking anyway for proprieties’ sake. Merlin had heard stories about subwardens. Strictness and severity. High on power. Always looking to catch their residents breaking policy or forcing them to attend boring events. Gwen Smithson could not have been further from that description. She was warm smiles and soft laughs. An air of maternal concern about her despite the fact that she was clearly amongst the upper tiers of the school’s snobbish elite. 

“Don’t ‘Gwen, right?’ me. You know perfectly well what my name is.” The smile she had for him was all but glowing. “Come sit with us. I won’t have one of my residents eating alone in the canteen on the first day of term.”

Merlin offered a shy smile to the other two women sitting at the table, unsure of whether Gwen’s sentiment was shared. He needn’t have worried. There was only keen interest in the eyes of the table’s other occupants, both expectedly beautiful, but closer to Gwen’s friendly air than to the condescension he’d experienced from almost everyone else at the school so far.

“How do?” he greeted, and had to instantly second guess his previous decision about his security at the table. The gleaming eyes and smiles that resulted from his simple greeting were decidedly disturbing.

“Gwen, he’s adorable,” said the stunning brunette to Gwen’s right, never taking her eyes from Merlin. “You didn’t tell me you were hosting college students in residence this term.” 

“Oi!” Merlin tried to protest, but the blonde to Gwen’s left was speaking before he could.

“Oh, hush, Mithi,” she said. “I’ve no problem with them coming in young. That just makes them easier to train, yeah?”

That was definitely a wink followed by fluttering lashes, both of which just made the idea of eating with the trio a lot less appealing.

“Ignore them, Merlin,” Gwen stepped in. “They’re just messing with you because you’re making it so easy. Mithian, Elena,” her attention went to each of her friends in turn, “please stop trying to scare off one of our most promising students. There’s enough of that going around as is.” 

“Oh Gwen, you’re no fun,” the blonde, Elena, said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We were just playing. No harm done, right Merlin?” 

“Uh,” Merlin replied intelligently. 

“Besides, unless I missed my mark,” Elena continued, eyeing him entirely too shrewdly for Merlin’s liking, “this one would appreciate attention from the cruder gender more than anything from this quarter. Any strapping lads caught your eye yet, mate?” 

Merlin choked on the mouthful of beans he’d just attempted and went immediately for his water. 

“Elena!” Gwen, scandalized. “You don’t have to answer that, Merlin. I apologize for my friends. It’s clear they’re not meant to be among polite company.” 

Honestly, Merlin found the interaction perfectly amusing. He hadn’t been expecting such frank behaviour from CU students, but he grew up around people who spoke plainly. Invasive as the questioning was, Merlin actually found it rather refreshing. 

“It’s alright, Gwen,” he said once his airway was clear for speech. “I’ve no shame in my preference for men, if that is your concern.” 

“Of course it’s of concern,” Mithian chimed in. “You realize that if Gwen is taking you under her wing it will be our responsibility to ensure you are making the proper...connections.” 

“Mithian fancies herself some sort of love guru,” Elena stage whispered across the table to Merlin. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t set you up with anyone too horrible.” 

“Elena,” Mithian growled looking not in the least amused. 

“She’d likely to try to connect you with old Professor Monmouth,” 

“Elena!” 

“Or Arthur Pendragon himself.” 

Merlin snorted. “That’s not likely to happen.” 

The table when suddenly very still. Merlin looked up from his food to find that all three of the girl’s eyes were trained on him, alight with concern.

“Merlin,” Gwen began very carefully. “Have you had a run in with Arthur Pendragon?” 

Merlin looked from face to face, stomach sinking at the looks on the previously lighthearted expressions. Before he could answer, there was a commotion in the dining hall. Much like what had happened in his lecture, a wave of whispers rushed through the room just before Arthur bloody-Pendragon entered.

This time he was flanked by four others. To Merlin’s mild confusion and greater distress, he saw that all were dressed in a uniform consisting of black boots, military fatigues, and brilliant red caps with a golden dragon embroidered on them. Two of the men, Merlin recognized from Arcane Theory and his earlier confrontation, one tall and thick muscled, pale skin tanned by the sun. The other smaller but no less muscular, complexion naturally dark. Of the remaining two, Merlin didn’t recognize one, but he had dark hair, olive skin, and eyes only for Gwen. 

The other was Gwaine. 

Merlin felt heat rising to his ears as the group approached, suddenly much more aware of the slightly too short jeans he was still wearing and the soiled trousers in his rucksack. Gwaine raised a brow at him and quirked a not-quite-smile his way, but then the force of nature that was Arthur Pendragon was descending upon their table, and the friendly air that once had been, died a quick and painful death. Merlin could have sworn he heard bones snapping and flesh giving way. 

“Gwen, there you are!” Pendragon said in that way he had. You would think for all the world that the man was everyone’s best friend. Pendragon pointedly ignored Merlin’s existence, focusing instead on the ladies at the table. “Mithian, Elena,” he nodded to each. Mithian rolled her eyes. Elena flashed him the two-fingered salute. Of course the prat continued as if nothing had happened. 

“I just wanted to inform you that your hall has been chosen for exercises this term. We’ve selected our new inductee.” 

At that, Pendragon’s eyes finally shifted to look at Merlin and the smile on his face was sinful. Merlin found, to his great frustration, that the shiver that went down his spine had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with hormones, and muscles, and evil looking entirely-too-good on some people. 

“I bet you have!” Gwen snapped, every bit the angry mother bear attempting to defend her Merlin-cub. “When are you going to stop doing this, Arthur?! It’s nothing to do with bettering your unit and everything to do with being a bully!”

“I’ll expect that you’ll notify your residents. Wouldn’t want them experiencing any undue interruptions to their studies. The usual indicator has been left.” 

“For Merlin? Seriously, Arthur.” Gwen received no response beyond a condescending grin. Seeing that there would be no help from that quarter, she looked to the shortest of the quartet, who were all standing at-ease behind their obvious leader. “Elyan?” The resemblance between Gwen and the other man was strong enough that Merlin would guess that they were siblings, but Elyan made no response. Gwen turned to the olive-skinned man who had been looking upon her warmly before. His eyes were now mysteriously focusing on something in the middle distance beyond Gwen’s accusing glare. “Lance?” Again, no response. 

She huffed and stood, facing down the smug satisfaction of Pendragon’s smirk. “Your notification is appreciated, Senior Under Officer Pendragon. My residents will be informed. I will, however, be filing a formal complaint to the chancellor’s office. These exercises are disruptive to the academic progress of all students in residence, particularly your so-called ‘inductees.’” 

“Here, here!” Elena seconded. 

“Agreed.” Mithian.

“Excellent,” is all Pendragon had to say to that. “Exercises begin in the morning.” 

With that, the blond ass turned on his heel and marched from the room, the quartet of other cadets following in his wake.

“Damn him!” Gwen hissed at their retreating backs, dropping heavily back into her seat. “If he weren’t the chancellor’s son...” 

“He’d still be a giant prick,” Elena spat. 

“I’m sorry this is happening to you, sweetie,” Mithian reached out a hand and to pat his arm in a way Merlin assumed was meant to be soothing. It wasn’t working. Something very bad had happened, that much was obvious. He just wished he understood what. 

Food was abandoned in favor of hurrying back to the residence hall. There was a lot of anger, a lot of frustration and amongst it, broken explanations about what was going on and what it meant for Merlin. Something about a boy named Martin the previous term, and Cedric the term before that. Both first-years, both scholarship students. In the two years since Arthur Pendragon had begun attending Camelot U and begun the tradition of selecting “special inductees” into the Dragon Corps of the University Officer Training Corps, not one of the selected inductees had ever actually been inducted. None had even lasted to the end of term. 

As Merlin stood, surrounded by Gwen, Elena, Mithian and a crowd of students -- some curious, some excited, some mocking -- staring at the large red ‘X’ spray-painted across the door to his dormitory, he could feel his world coming apart around him yet again. It might as well have been painted in his blood, because if it meant that he was to be forced from the school, he really was as good as dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! This is the first time I've posted a fic as multiple chapters! This is pretty cool :D


	3. Chapter 3

_The dream was not a new one. The feel of it familiar as the deep thrum of power that existed at his core. But as always, it was a thing just beyond his grip. Voices. Flashes of awareness. Little more._

_“What you’re planning is madness.” his father’s voice. “You know I won’t help you.”_

_“But you’ve already helped us, Balinor.” A woman’s voice. Unfamiliar. Honey-sweet and laced with venom. “Your presence is enough for now, and when the time comes--”_

merlin _._

_This was a new voice. One that wasn’t quite a voice. It echoed through his bones. Sang through his blood..._

Merlin _._

_..filled his mind with a strange buzz as his magic fought against the strict control he’d been taught all his life. The sound filled his ears, distracting and rousing him from an already fitful slumber. It was..._

...wait. It was coming from inside his room? The sound was now familiar as his mind struggled to awareness, the dream fading to nothing in the face of this new distraction. Power tools. Who was using power tools in his room? The answer came when he opened his eyes to find light from the hall blinding him. His door was open, but the light was coming in from the wrong side of it. It took Merlin’s brain a full half minute to register that the door was no longer attached to its hinges. He managed to drag himself out of bed just in time to see his door, that he’d barely gotten acquainted with in the first place, mind you, lift then move, then vanish from his door stop.

It was a lot to take in at half past five in the morning. 

“Oi!” he croaked, because it was far too early for speech let alone attempting to thwart the efforts of door thieves. “Oi!” he tried again, getting a bit more volume on the second try, though he might as well have made no sound at all for all the good it did him. He scrambled for the hall, intent on at least getting a proper look at the culprits, but by the time he made it out of his room, all traces of his door and those who had taken it had completely vanished. Despite the circumstances, he couldn’t help the grudging respect he felt for the skill it had taken to pull of such a feat without leaving a trace. 

Still, no matter how impressive it all was, Merlin was left in a very uncomfortable situation. What did one do when left suddenly and inexplicably without a door? There wasn’t even anyone else awake at this hour to bear witness to the crime. Everyone else would wake and think that hey, looks like that Ambrose bloke decided that he didn’t need a door, after all, this term. Of course that’s not what people would really assume. There would be no mistake about what had happened here. The UOTC exercises had begun. This was the beginning of the end for Merlin. 

Still a bit stunned and not fully awake, Merlin wandered back into his room. He looked around at his meager belongings; the clothes and toiletries his mum bad bought for him, the jeans he’d inherited from Gwaine, his texts, his wallet, and the decrepit old laptop that Gaius had given to him for the internet and writing papers. It wasn’t much, but it was all that Merlin had. And suddenly, it all seemed very vulnerable. Without the barrier of a door between his things and the rest of the world, anyone could wander in, leaf through his papers, touch his clothes. Nothing was safe.

A chill went through him at the thought, and Merlin became very aware of his state of undress. He slept only in his boxers, and with the door open, the chill air from the hallway was drawn in, setting gooseflesh prickling at his skin. Nothing in his room was safe anymore, and Merlin knew that he was included in that tally. 

Without knowing really what he was doing, he pulled on a jumper and Gwaine’s too-short jeans, then collected everything in his room that he could do without for the time being. His clothes and things needed to stay put, same for his texts since he would have assignments to complete, but the laptop, his few personal effects, those didn’t need to stay. He gathered said items into his arms then made his way out, down the hall and around the corner to the subwarden’s room. 

“Gwen!” he called through the door, knocking and not really thinking about the hour. “Gwen!” The things in his arms almost overbalanced, and he was in process of keeping them together when the door swung open a moment later.

“Merlin,” Gwen said, sleep-rumpled and rubbing her eyes against the bright lights of the hall. It was an acknowledgement, without surprise or confusion. “Come in.” 

She stepped to the side and closed the door behind him, then promptly moved to the small kitchen area in her room to heat water for tea. She’d been expecting him, of course. Perhaps not so early, but Pendragon had said. “Exercises begin in the morning.” They knew that something would be happening. 

“What did they do?” she asked, wrapping her short bathrobe more securely around her body. 

“My door,” he said, still not quite believing what had happened. “They took it.” 

“Your door,” Gwen repeated, and by the look on her face, she was having just as much trouble processing that information as he was. “What kind of people steal other people’s doors?” 

The snort that escaped him was completely unexpected. There was nothing in this situation for him to be laughing at. Except for the fact that it was utterly ridiculous. A stolen door. That’s really what his life had come to after one day at one of the most prestigious schools on the planet? He couldn’t stop himself. Once the laughter started, he couldn’t reign it back in. Gwen was watching him as if he’d lost his mind, a wary smile pulling at her lips as if she wasn’t sure whether she should be joining in or calling for help. 

“I’m alright,” he told her. “Really. It’s not exactly one of the most conventional ways to harass someone, but it’s definitely...” he wasn’t quite sure what to make of the whole affair. 

“Inventive?” Gwen offered. Merlin nodded his agreement. It was as good as any other word he could think of. 

“Inventive. Yes. It’s that for sure.” 

The kettle went off, then, and Gwen rose to grab a squat little tea pot. He was a bit surprised to see that Gwen didn’t pull out tea bags as he’d been expecting, but rather shook a measure of loose leaf tea into the pot and poured water from the kettle over it. She brought the tea pot over to the small table she and Merlin were sitting around, then stepped away again to fetch cups, cream and sugar, along with a tin that she opened to reveal an assortment of biscuits.

“Have some,” she offered, gesturing to the tin. “My father sends more than my brother and I could possibly eat on our own.” 

“Thanks,” he agreed, and helped himself. They sat in silence for a time as Merlin munched and the tea steeped. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Gwen admitted at last, reaching for the tea pot and pouring some for each of them. 

“I would assign you a new room, but there are none left open, and even if there were I suspect that any room transfer papers I submitted would mysteriously be denied approval. I’ve extra space here, but letting you move in with me would be against policy and I would lose my job, and I know that whoever Arthur replaced me with would just make things even more miserable for you.” 

“Whoa! Gwen!” Merlin exclaimed, a little shocked by the intentions this woman he’d known for a little over a week was already expressing for him. “I appreciate your thoughts, really I do,” he said, “but I couldn’t ask you to do any of those things. You’re already involved in this enough. I just came over to ask if you could keep some of my things safe for me.” He gestured at the small pile of belongings he’d set on the floor beside his feet. 

“Oh, Merlin,” she signed in response, adding cream and sugar to her tea and stirring vigorously. “You know that I will. I just hate this. I hate _him._ ”

“It’ll be fine, Gwen. Promise,” he told her, decidedly more confidence in his voice than he was feeling in his gut. “I may not look like much, but I’m stronger than you’d think.” 

It was Gwen’s turn to snort. She did her best to hide it behind her cup, but the smile was still there as evidence when she spoke next. “You haven’t seen just how inventive Arthur Pendragon and his men can be.” She said, taking a sip and grabbing a biscuit for herself. 

It was a true assessment. But Merlin knew that it would not be long before he found out. 

 

Merlin spent the rest of his morning with Gwen, learning what he could from her. He was reminded of time spent with the Druid leaders and his Catha guardians. Lessons in strategy and evasion. His father’s voice echoed in his mind, reminding him “if you want any hope in defending against an enemy, you must first understand who your enemy is.”

The problem was, Arthur Pendragon, the person, was proving to be a bit of a mystery. He kept to his circles, and that meant the officer-cadets of the UOTC, and more specifically, the specially selected member’s of his Dragon Corps. 

“And how does one get inducted into the Dragon Corps?” Merlin asked, scenting a lead. 

“Only those who are in know the answer to that question,” Gwen shrugged. “Whenever I ask my brother about it, he starts quoting codes of honor and loyalty to his team. I dunno. It’s all very strange to me. But all of the members are from some of the most powerful families in the nation.” 

“What about this induction bollocks? That’s what they’re calling me, right? An ‘inductee.’” 

“Yes, well, the idea is that everything they’re going to put you through is meant to be a test. To prove whether or not you’re worthy, or some rubbish like that. The truth is that this is Arthur’s way of settling a vendetta he has against anyone who makes a fool of him. A boy called Gilli Wesson beat him out for top marks during his first year. Gilli was a here on scholarship, like you. It would have been fine if Arthur’s father hadn’t been there when grades were posted and hadn’t announced his disappointment in front of half the school. 

“He was humiliated, and Arthur Pendragon has never taken well to public shame. The following term, he announced that he was seeking new inductees for his team and that since Gilli was so smart, he was an obvious candidate. That just meant it was open season for all the meatheads trying to get into Arthur’s good graces to have a go at poor Gilli. Then it came out that he could use magic and--”

“He was a sorcerer?” Merlin asked cutting into the explanation.

“Of a sort, yes,” Gwen confirmed. “Not like any of the really powerful ones that were around back when the sorcerers had a proper Emrys to lead them, but he could do some things. He had a ring that helped him.”

“What happened to him? Having magic here at Camelot, I mean?”

“Well, it’s not against the rules. Students with magic may attend Camelot, it’s just very uncommon what with magic becoming so rare. Anyone found with potential is usually taken straight to the Avalon Academy. That’s what we all assume happened with Gilli when things got too difficult here, but I haven’t heard anything about him since he left. It was my first year of uni, too.” 

“And after?” Merlin asked, wanting to change the subject and pull his attention away from the creeping feeling of _something_ that he didn’t want to pursue at the moment. “What had the others done?” 

“Nothing,” Gwen said, voice sad and tired. “It had become a game. Arthur just chose a student marked their door and let his cadets use them for ‘training exercises.’ Usually people who hadn’t done anything to him. Last year it got bad. Martin, the one I told you about, had a friend that he’d come in with. A boy called Will, I think.” 

That definitely caught Merlin’s attention. 

“Will did his best to stand up to Arthur, and Arthur really didn’t like that. I was sure that _he_ would be the target this term, but clearly...” 

“Right,” Merlin said, mind alight with new information. He needed to go. Had to prepare for his lecture with Gaius later in the afternoon, plus he would need to finish the reading he had for homework from the previous day’s lecture, and now he had a new mission. He had to find Will. “Thank you for talking Gwen, I’m sure you have better things to do than play twenty questions with me.” 

“It’s no trouble, Merlin,” Gwen said rising and stepping over to squeeze him in a brief hug. “If you need anything, I’m here. I mean it.” She lifted his pile of items and walked over to a small cupboard near her bed. “And these will be safe for you when you need them, ok?” 

Merlin nodded his thanks, gave his best impression of a winning smile then braced himself. It was time to face his new life as a pariah.

In hindsight, it hadn’t been the brightest idea for him to leave his clothes and books in his room unprotected for as long as he’d done. This occurred to Merlin the moment he turned the corner to the hall leading to his room and was confronted with a floor decorated with his remaining belongings. Wonderful.

The plus side was that his clothes, at least were mostly salvageable. Whoever had decided to scatter his things hadn’t bothered to rip or tear the fabric. His books were not so fortunate. Crumpled pages from his texts covered the floor along with the bent remains of the books themselves. This more than anything made Merlin feel ill, because there was no way he would be able to replace them, and how was he going to complete his lessons without books? 

It was a concern he would set aside for later. He had to focus on the current situation for the time being. He took what was salvageable and hid it as best he could under his mattress and a far corner under his bed, collected his rucksack and headed out to locate his quarry. He wasn’t sure where to start, but the last time he’d seen Will by the dragon, he got a sense that it was a place Will frequented. It was as good a place as any to start. 

Stepping out of the dorms felt a great deal like stepping into a forest at night, knowing that there were hungry wolves on the prowl. Every sound was a threat. Sudden movements had him jumping. It was bad enough that his status as a scholarship student set him apart from the majority of the student population, now with the target Arthur Pendragon had all but carved into his back, he felt the reality of standing alone against almost an entire school.

The tension in the air had ratcheted up about a thousand fold. Merlin imagined that he could feel the weight of it as he made his way across the campus. The eyes that watched him were calculating, and by the time he was approaching the main citadel of the school, his shoulders were aching with the strain of anticipation. Already the stress was getting to him. 

The path to the citadel led directly past the Dragon’s Garden, and as Merlin passed it, he paused. It was the second time that he’d stepped into the shadow of the great stone dragon, and the experience was still just a bit surreal. Merlin felt a shiver of recollection travel down his spine, though he couldn’t say what it was he was recalling. The dragon’s pull was stronger somehow. He had to focus very hard to keep his power in check. He did step closer to it this time, keeping aware of the snarling jaw and watchful eyes far above. 

The area around the dragon was wild and overgrown, thick patches of crabgrass dotting the lawn. Beyond was the rest of the garden, a place that looked as if it had once been well cared for, but had fallen into disuse and disrepair over the years. There was something about the place that kept other students away. The same thing that drew Merlin in apparently kept others out because there was never a time that he saw students cut through the garden to get to the other side. They always took the paths around. He felt on instinct that it was a protection of some kind, but for what, Merlin had no idea.

He tore his attention away from the garden, knowing that there were other things, more important things, that he needed to focus his attention towards. Like finding Will and figuring out this thing that had happened with him and Arthur Pendragon and the UOTC. Merlin hurried to the citadel’s quad, looking to the pale imitation of a dragon statue he’d seen the day before, and was pleased to see that his luck in locating people, at least, was holding. 

“Fancy finding you here,” Merlin said by way of greeting, stepping towards Will’s spot on the grass beside the dragon’s claw and stopping in front of him. 

“You’re blocking my sun,” Will responded. Considering the sickly, barely-there light breaking through the clouds overhead, Merlin doubted that Will really cared about where he was standing. Still, for the sake of getting comfortable for a potentially lengthy conversation, Merlin folded his legs beneath himself and sat on the grass in front of Will. 

“Tell me about Martin,” he asked, cutting straight to the point. 

Will puffed another breath of smoke, some of it escaping through his nose. The image created and impression that echoed with thoughts of the Dragon’s Garden and the statue guarding its gate. 

“What makes you think I’d talk to _you_ about Martin?” Will asked in response. 

“Well, I imagine that by now you’ve heard that I’ve been chosen as Pendragon’s new punching bag.” Merlin paused, considering his words before he spoke. “I was hoping that you’d have some insight on what I should do from here.” 

Another long drag. “You could always leave.” 

“That’s not an option.” 

Will chuckled at the quick response. “You’re either completely daft or completely stupid.” Will turned his eyes to Merlin for the first time in the interaction. “You realize that Pendragon and his lot will eat you alive? There’s nothing you can do. People like you and me? We’ve got no leverage. Nothing but ourselves. Sometimes each other for backup.” 

“And that’s what you were for Martin? Backup?”

“Fat lot of good it did him. Just made both our lives more difficult. He stuck it out as long as he could. His mum had been so proud when he got accepted. It was like every shitty thing she’d gone through in her life were worth it, because her boy was a Camelot boy. All he wanted were to do her proud.” 

Merlin was quiet for a while. Will’s bitterness was a presence in the air, breathing into him and releasing with every drag of smoke.

“Where’s he now?” 

Will shrugged. “Transferred to another uni. He’s fine. Top of his class at Mercia. Still...” Will pushed himself up, clearly done with the conversation. His cigarette was finished and he flicked the butt into the grass. “Pendragon’s a wanker. What you did was possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen but,” Will flashed a winning smile, “it was also brilliant. I have a feeling that things are going to get interesting this round.” 

“Does that mean I can count on you to back me up?” Merlin asked, mainly just to see what Will would say. 

“It means that I like it when things are interesting. Especially if it means getting Pendragon’s knickers in a twist.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Gaius’ office was somewhere off the main quad, upstairs along the outer walls of the citadel. The tower had once been the physician’s quarters, but had since been renovated for technology and shelving and office hours. Everything a tenured professor would need. He hadn’t had a chance to connect with his godfather about how his first day had gone, so after meeting with Will, Merlin set out to find Gaius. If anyone would be able to help him figure out what to do in his parents’ absence, Gaius would.

Or at least he hoped he would. Assuming that the glare he was sending didn’t scorch Merlin’s face off and the creeping brows, that Merlin was near certain had a life of their own, didn’t assault him in his sleep.

“I can’t believe you!” Gaius lamented, turning his back on Merlin as if he couldn’t stand to look at him. “One day. One day of lectures and this is what you manage. Of all the people you chose to mouth off at, it had to be Uther’s son?!”

“I’m sorry!” Merlin cried, stepping further into the space. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. He was just being so...so...” 

“Pompous? Entitled? Immature and cruel?” Gaius supplied. “Arthur is all of those things, and that is exactly why you should have steered clear of him!” 

“I know Gaius,” Merlin sighed, dropping himself into one of the large plush chairs situated in front of his godfather’s desk. “I just... Mum and Da always taught me to do what’s right. To not stand by and do nothing if I could help. I’m supposed to be some kind of great leader, right? How could I call myself that if I let people like Arthur Pendragon do what they want?” 

Gaius sighed and took the seat beside Merlin, watching him with worried eyes. “I understand, Merlin. And what you did was well intended. Under different circumstances, I would say that it was the right thing to do. But you’ve placed yourself in an incredibly dangerous situation. I need not remind you of the consequences should your magic be discovered. Everything that your parents have done to protect you would be completely wasted.” 

Silence fell between them. There was nothing more to say. Merlin knew that he had ruined things in major ways; knew that with the amount of stress he was going to be under, it would be harder and harder to keep his magic controlled.  The risk of him being at Camelot was already high, but now... 

“If I had to leave, where could I go?” he asked into the silence. 

Gaius sighed again and his brows attempted to convey his meaning through interpretive dance. “I suppose the only option would be to join your mother with the Catha as they try to reach your father. That or seek sanctuary with the Druids until you come into your power. Either way, I fear it would not be long before Nimueh and her followers learned of your power and came for you.” 

“The Catha would fight to protect me. Even the Druids would defend me if it came to it,” he said, speaking the probable chain of events aloud to help him get them sorted like his father had always taught him. “But then it wouldn’t be long before Uther’s people heard that the Sorcerers had an Emrys after all, then they’d come for me, too.” Merlin dropped his head into his hands. “All of this potential, all of these things that I can do. All of it’s completely useless until I come of age and can claim it as my own! My bloody _Mark_ hasn’t even started developing yet, Gaius!” 

“Merlin, you know--” 

“Yes! I know!” He surged to his feet, agitated. “I know that there’s nothing I can do to change the way these things happen. I know that trying to claim that much power too soon could destroy me, but if it came to it, if Uther found out about me and I had to leave the protection the Circle provides, what choice would I have? Go to the Catha and wait for war to break out over me because my magic is up for grabs for anyone who knows how to take it? Stand by and watch people die to protect me? Gaius. I can’t let that happen. I can’t.” 

Silence again. He lowered himself back into his seat and pressed his palm to his forehead. The air was getting crowded with the things they couldn’t say; choices they couldn’t make. 

“I suppose then, we’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t come to that.” Gaius said, dropping a comforting hand to pat Merlin on the knee. “I have some extra copies of texts for my lecture here, and I can put other books on hold for myself at the library. Tell me which ones you’ll be needing and I’ll have them sent over. There isn’t much I can do about your living situation, but you’re welcome to come here to study any time you need.” 

Merlin’s face broke into a brilliant grin. “Thank you, Gaius! Thank you!” That solved at least one of his major problems. 

“Yes, yes. Let us hope that Arthur and his men grow tired of their game quickly and leave you in peace. I’ll have a talk with the boy. Upon occasion I’m able to talk sense into his thick skull. He can be quite agreeable when he wants to.”

Merlin shot him a doubtful look but didn’t say anything. 

“Aside from your Pendragon woes, how did you enjoy your first day?”

“It was brilliant before the blond ass entered the picture,” Merlin gushed. “Met possibly the most beautiful man alive, even though he turned out to be one of Pendragon’s lackeys, but he seems lovely all the same. I even managed to get into his pants!” He gestured at the jeans he was wearing, grinning smartly. Gaius was not impressed. 

“Much as it pleases me to know that you have a healthy labido, I’d rather not discuss your private life in such a way. You studies, Merlin. How was your first lecture?” 

“It was...fascinating,” Merlin decided on. He didn’t know how else to describe his Arcane Theory lecture. “They were talking about magic as if it were a hard science. Breaking it down into component parts and talking about using crystals to generate energy fields that could then be programmed to do things. Like using computers to cast spells. The idea almost sounds feasible, but it’s rubbish. Who ever heard of using computers to do magic?” 

“It does sound far-fetched,” Gaius agreed, “but I have it on good authority that Uther is in process of preparing such technology for public use.”

Merlin stared at him in open disbelief. “No.” 

Gaius nodded. “He’s marketing them as magic enhancers. Small devices that can be worn on the body that are meant to increase a sorcerer’s magical potential.” 

“Uther? Helping those with magic? Why do I find that hard to believe?” 

“I agree. It does seem suspicious. But we haven’t any evidence to support that the devices are anything but what Uther claims them to be, and with magic fading more and more with every passing year, people are becoming desperate for ways to stop it. I fear that many a sorcerer will fall prey to the enticement. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to get my hands on one of the devices to examine.” 

“A good job, that,” Merlin said. “You may not practice it much anymore, Gaius, but you still have magic. Who knows what one of those things would do to you?” 

“If it would save others more powerful than myself from harm, I’d gladly take the risk.” 

Merlin shook his head. He still found it hard to believe. Gaius seemed so harmless on sight. Just another dapper, slightly rotund, older gentleman. No one would suspect the quiet courage he possessed in defying a man gone mad with hatred. Merlin was not privy to the full details of Uther Pendragon’s grudge against magic, nor did he know the full extent of Gaius’ history with the man. What he did know was that Gaius was held in Uther’s trust, and with every deed he did to help Merlin and the other sorcerers Uther targeted, Gaius was risking discovery; risking his life. 

“Has there been any word of my father?” He almost didn’t want to ask the question. It was easier to pretend that all was well with his family and that his biggest concern was Arthur Pendragon’s grudge. But he couldn’t have this conversation with his godfather without asking. Even though he already knew the answer. If there had been word about his father, Merlin would have known immediately.

“None,” Gaius confirmed. “Alator has been in touch with your mother, however. She sends her love.” 

“Do you think I’ll be able to call her soon?” 

Gaius gave him a pitying look that Merlin couldn’t help but resent. “It would be too easy for your enemies to track you through her, Merlin. Contacting your mother would be far too dangerous.” 

“Right,” he nodded. “Of course. I knew that.” 

Gaius sighed and placed a comforting hand on his knee. “It won’t be for much longer. The months will pass by before you know it.” 

“It’s just strange. I was with them every day for my whole life and now...” Merlin cleared his throat, shaking off the emotions that were trying to take hold. “Anyway, what will we be covering today?” 

Gaius gave his knee a final squeeze, but thankfully allowed the subject to be changed. “Course outline and basic anatomy. Let me grab a book for you and you can get started on the reading early.”

Merlin spent the next few hours in Gaius’ office, reading and thinking and speaking with his godfather. It was the most restful he’d felt since arriving at the school. Even the lesson was nice because despite some of the other student’s attempts to have a go at him, Gaius made it clear that he would not stand for such non-sense in his lecture. His relationship with the Pendragons was known well enough that his words were not taken lightly.

The lecture ended and he was beginning to think that things might not be as bad as everyone was making them out to be. That is, of course, until he was exiting the building and suddenly found a number of hands on his person tugging, and lifting; carrying him away. Not good. 

There were jeers and laughter all around him, too many faces to see or even try to identify. His heart was in his throat, pounding frantically less because he was afraid of what was going to happen to him and more because he was afraid of how he would react to it. His magic was always harder to control in situations where emotions ran high and aside from the obvious problems that would come with revealing himself, there was also the concern of hurting someone. His power was still growing, and with the strange energy that made the school a safe place for him infusing the air, he had no clue how his magic would behave. 

He was unceremoniously dumped on the ground. It could have been seconds later, or minutes. He’d lost time in the suddenness of the attack. He expected feet and fists. Stomping. Beating. Pain. What he got instead was...the most god-awful stench he’d ever had the displeasure of experiencing, very close to his face. 

“Oh, God!” he tried to rise, attempting to protect his nose from the stink, but strong hands shoved him from behind, causing him to sprawl forward into the muddy grass he’d landed in, and he feared it was more than water that made up the mud. At this rate he wasn’t going to be able to afford his laundry bill.

“Oh my,” a voice spoke from just above his head in mock alarm. “It would seem our guest isn’t enjoying his accommodations!” More laughs and jeers came in response to the comment. Merlin managed to shove himself up enough to at least see his attacker if not face him on equal standing. He looked up to meet eyes that were hard set in a face that would be handsome if not for the malicious sneer that marred his features. He had calculating eyes, bright with intelligence and cruel intentions. Merlin got an overall sense of weasel from him from the eyes alone. The dark, short-cropped hair and perfect posture was the only other evidence that he needed to identify the man as UOTC. 

“How shocking,” Merlin said. “Another one of Pendragon’s lackeys here to give me a hard time. What’s the matter? Run out of doors to steal?” 

“So the mouse can squeak,” the man, clearly the ringleader of this operation, smirked down at him. “Well, that _is_ what got you in this situation in the first place, isn’t it? You don’t know when to keep that mouth shut. Have no respect for your betters.” 

“Oh I have plenty of respect for my betters. It’s no fault of mine that I’ve yet to meet any of them here.” Merlin could have kicked himself for running off at the mouth, _yet again_ , because from the pinched look on weasel-man’s face, he’d just made the situation a lot worse. 

“Lads! I think the mouse is hungry,” weasel-man called out, addressing the others. “Let’s see if we can help him find some cheese!” 

It was then, in that moment, that Merlin finally recognized exactly where they were and where the stench was coming from. They had taken him behind the canteen, and as more hands came at him and pinned his arms against his struggling, he saw the leader walk over to one of the large rubbish bins there, and first unlock then lift the lid. The stink of rot and decay multiplied ten fold, Merlin gagging on it, and he intensified his struggling because their intentions were horrifically clear.   

“Oh.” Weasel-man tilted his head towards the open dumpster as if listening. “Sounds like you might have some family in there. It’ll be a regular reunion.” 

Panic set in. He couldn’t let this happen. Bad enough that it was a dumpster full of wet and rotting food, and rats who wouldn’t know the difference between him and a meal. His skin was already crawling at the thought of it. He’d be covered in his own vomit the moment the lid closed. But then he’d be trapped in that tiny closed space for gods knew how long. He could already feel his lungs seizing up, frozen in anticipated terror. 

“No.” The word wheezed out of him at no conscious will of his own. “No!” His struggling intensified, limbs inexplicably wriggling from otherwise firm holds. He knew that it was his magic slipping from his control, but he couldn’t stop it. He was running on auto, the single thought in his mind being that he could not be put in that dumpster. He could not. 

It was all happening too quickly, his control lost. He could feel the tingle of power building, glowing just beneath his skin and it was almost foreign to him. The stench of garbage faded. Instead he could _taste_ the power in the air, feel it surge through him like nothing he’d ever experienced before. An entirely different wave of fear rushed through him now, because the power was building. If they let him drop, it would release, and he had no idea what would happen when it did. He was scrambling to find something of the control he’d spent his entire life learning when: 

“Cadet, stand HO!” 

Everything froze. But not in the way things froze when Merlin _made_ them freeze. Instead there was a sudden tension in the air, the voice halting his assailants surely as any magic could. Even Merlin’s magic stilled, the sudden command enough to snap him out of his panic. Weasel-man was the only one to actually snap to attention, confirming Merlin’s assumption that he was UOTC. 

“Under Officer Roderick.” Weasel-man addressed whoever had called him out. Merlin was shocked to see Gwaine stride into the situation in military greens. 

“Cadet Borden, you’re needed on the training field. You’re dismissed.” 

Weasel-man, Borden apparently, didn’t bat a lash. He made a smart salute then set off at a quick clip. There was a clear moment of indecision on the part of the people still holding Merlin. The rigid command-presence that had been there moments before melted completely from Gwaine’s demeanor. 

“Clear out, you lot,” he said rolling his eyes. Merlin was dropped non too gently, but he was thankfully put on the ground and not inside of that pit of horrors. He immediately scrambled to his feet. 

“That’s right!” he called after the dispersing group. “Sod off you wankers!”

Apparently Gwaine found this very amusing. Merlin couldn’t imagine why; him standing there covered in mud and filth, stick-thin and trembling like a leaf in the wind as he came down from the peaks of panic, shouting after the lot of them like his words meant anything at all. He had no idea what Gwaine found so funny in the situation.

“It would seem that you are a magnet for trouble, my friend,” Gwaine said in that _voice_. “Merlin, wasn’t it?”

“Right,” Merlin agreed, pouring as much sarcasm into the word as his shaking voice would allow. “Because I’m sure you’ve no idea who I am after your great golden ass of a teammate painted that target on my back.” 

“To be fair,” Gwaine said wryly, “it was on your door.” 

The unexpected honesty of the statement startled a laugh out of him. He had to choke it back as a burst of magic tried to belch up with it, but the moment was enough to chase away the last dregs of his fear from before. The power that had built, preparing to protect him, settled. He took a few steadying breaths as he allowed it to disperse into the ground and air before focusing his attention back on Gwaine, who was simply watching him, expectant.

“Well since we’re being so honest, with each other, may I confess a secret?” Merlin asked. 

Gwaine smiled that smile of his. “Wouldn’t imagine stopping you.” 

“I’m going to vomit down your front if we stay here a moment longer,” Merlin informed him, and though it was about the least sexy thing he could have possibly said, Gwaine raised his eyebrows in interest, smile shifting just so before he replied.

“Right then.” He lifted and arm as if in invitation. “I’ll show you to the outdoor showers, shall I?” 

“Sounds brilliant,” Merlin gave his most winning smile and followed Gwaine away from the canteen, the disturbing confrontation he’d just had already fading into an unpleasant memory. The thought of Gwaine and showers in conjunction with each other was enough to make just about anything else that had happened to him that day just about worth it.

“This is starting to become a bit of a habit,” Gwaine said, passing a shirt and trousers to Merlin over the shower wall. They were at the showers on the edge of the training field where the UOTC cadets ran drills. Despite himself, Merlin was excited to see a part of the campus that he’d yet to explore. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re doing it on purpose.”

“Yes,” Merlin agreed, with a laugh. “Of course. I orchestrated all of this with the coffee on my willy and near-death by rats and last weeks leftovers just so that I could get your clothes off.” 

“Well, you know, Merlin. You could have just asked.” Merlin halted, his entire body flushing at the bold statement. Gwaine was unlike anyone he’d encountered before, so brazen and forthright. This was something else he’d heard about in uni. Opportunities to explore and find oneself, and whilst Merlin was fully comfortable with his preferences, that didn’t mean that there had been a plethora of opportunities for him to put them into practice as of yet. Could he dare take advantage of this opportunity? Could he dare pass it up? 

He shifted in indecision, gnawing on his lower lip for a second as he pulled the trousers on then slid the door latch open. “If that’s the case,” he said after a pause that had just passed into the realm of awkward, “I might need some help figuring out how to put these on.” He heard a snort and soft laugh from beyond the stall, but a moment later, the door swung open and Gwaine stepped in, smile in place. It was a different one than Merlin had seen before, soft an knowing. Hot enough to cause Merlin’s body temperature to spike. 

“Careful, Merlin,” he drawled, closing the door behind him and slipping the latch lock in place. “Someone might mistake that as an invitation.” 

Merlin swallowed thickly, feeling all too exposed with his borrowed top still draped over the stall wall, and Gwaine’s eyes leisurely taking him in. “And if it was?”

The smile became something almost feral, and Merlin found that he’d gone a little breathless with anticipation by the time Gwaine had him pressed against the wall, pinned by the hips. 

“I might have to take you up on it,” he said, then leaned in for a kiss. 

Gwaine’s mouth closed over Merlin’s with practiced ease. It was warm and wonderful, and unlike anything he’d ever felt. He’d never been touched like this before. It was not his first kiss, but Merlin knew that it would go down in his memory as his first _real_ kiss. Different from the awkward fumbles he’d managed with boys and girls alike as they tried to figure out how it was supposed to work. Nothing like the hurried hand jobs he’d had in the past or even touching himself. This was slow and intentional. A building force that almost thrummed through his blood as pressure increased and gathered low in his belly. 

Gwaine’s lips were soft and full, caressing, coaxing. Merlin opened his mouth in invitation without even thinking about it, and Gwaine immediately took advantage, licking into Merlin’s mouth; teasing at his tongue. It felt like every nerve in his body as tingling, firing and misfiring and fogging Merlin’s mind in a haze of pleasure. There was part of him that really couldn’t believe this was happening; that someone like Gwaine would ever even look twice at someone like Merlin. But it was, he had the slide of warm hands over his flushed skin as proof, his body trembling and writhing at the feel of them. Straining. Aching.

He moaned into the kiss, wanting more of these feelings. Pressed forward, adding his own efforts to the moment, wanting nothing more than to memorize the other man’s taste. He knew that Gwaine could feel his bourgeoning erection, and pushed his hips forward, eagerly, mindlessly, because it felt good. Because he wanted to. 

“Whoa there,” Gwaine said, pulling back but not away. “Easy, or else you’re going to need another pair of trousers, and I’m afraid I’m all out.” 

Merlin stood their gasping, mind not processing the words at first, but Gwaine just kept watching him, that knowing smirk in place as he rand fingers through Merlin’s damp hair. 

Eventually Merlin nodded, remembering that they were outside and that there were students around and that it might not be the best plan to try to get his rocks off in the middle of the UOTC training area. 

“Right,” he breathed, earning himself another smile and a final lingering kiss before Gwaine stepped away from him to lean against the opposite wall of the stall. Much as he regretted the loss of contact, Merlin was also a bit relieved. He couldn’t think straight with Gwaine so close, and he needed to get his head back together if he was going to get himself sorted enough to get out of that stall. It was challenging enough to focus with his dick still half hard as it was. 

He grabbed the t-shirt from the wall and pulled it on, flashing Gwaine a grin once his head came through the neck hole. 

“I’d say we could go back to mine,” he started, “but it wouldn’t exactly be private now with the whole missing door situation.” The reminder of things that were going on beyond the shower stall was sobering enough to cool the heat still in Merlin’s blood somewhat. 

“I couldn’t anyway,” Gwaine shrugged. “I’ve training in a bit.” 

The reminder of Arthur Pendragon was enough to kill his interest completely. As if Merlin needed more reasons to hate the man, Pendragon had just gained cock-block status. Merlin was not best pleased. 

He gave a small shrug and sigh of resignation, but kept his smile in place. “You know, you’re nothing like the others,” he observed, grabbing his towel and turning towards the lock. “Those meat heads that follow your boss around like a pack of trained dogs.” 

“That is my team you’re talking about, Merlin.” There was the slightest hint of warning in his voice as he followed Merlin out onto the grass around the showers. “I understand what this must look like to you, but I won’t hear you speak against them. They’re some of the best people I know.” 

“Including Pendragon?” Merlin challenged, turning to meet Gwaine eye to eye. 

“Especially Arthur,” he confirmed solemnly. “There’s a lot at work here that you don’t understand, my friend. I don’t agree with this game Arthur likes to play, but it’s one of the few indulgences he allows himself, and God help us, we none of us have the heart to take it from him.” 

“So you stand by and watch whilst helpless people are terrorized until they have no choice but to leave?!” The warm feeling that had been lingering after the kiss vanished, replaced by a cold, solid lump. He couldn’t believe that Gwaine was standing there trying to justify Pendragon’s insanity. 

“No one said that,” Gwaine was quick to interject. “In fact, we make a point of watching the inductees and helping them understand that leaving is the better choice. Things aren’t all as they seem here, Merlin. Not all of us have a choice, but no one will think anything of it if you choose to leave. The term has barely started, you could transfer to another school and hardly notice the difference.” 

Merlin shook his head, had been shaking his head for the entire time that Gwaine had been speaking. “How can you defend him? I don’t care what the reason, what Arthur Pendragon has been doing is wrong. Anyone with eyes can see it! And before you try to convince me that it would be better for me to leave now and start over elsewhere, save your breath. I will not be intimidated by you or anyone else in this hell hole.”

“Merlin,” Gwaine spoke his name as a plea. “What happened to you today was child’s play. The people at this school take these ‘exercises’ very seriously. It’s only going to get worse.” 

“Then I’ll be better prepared next time,” he snapped, collecting his wet clothes from where he’d laid them out after rinsing them. He paused to level a glare with the man who, despite their current disagreement, still made something in his gut flutter like mad. “You said some of you have no choice but to stay, like it would be so easy for anyone else to just walk away. Well count me among the ones who are stuck. I have no choice, Gwaine. I’m not going anywhere.” 

He didn’t look back as he walked away. 


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin had felt very mature in the way he’d handled his conversation with Gwaine after the incident behind the canteen, especially considering the other activities that had followed. He’d walked away from that moment determined to be the bigger man. Arthur Pendragon and everyone who fawned over him were nothing more than bullies and Merlin was determined to show them all what he was made of. He would turn the other cheek. He would take whatever they threw at him with stoic calm as long as it wouldn’t permanently injure him or anyone near him. He would show them all how stupid their game was and they would bore of it eventually. He was sure of it.

He lasted a week. Not even a full week, actually. Six days. Merlin was really rather impressed with himself for lasting that long. He was not known for his patience, particularly when it came to bullies and idiots, but it only served to prove just how committed Merlin was to making his point. _Six days_. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have lasted six hours.

It started with the door and then the incident behind the canteen. Thankfully, after Gwaine had stepped in to stop the group who had planned to lock him in the rubbish bin, no one tried that particular stunt again. He suspected that Gwaine had something to do with that. It didn’t stop people from using his head as target practice for unwanted food whenever he went to eat, and it didn’t stop people from upending bins over his head at any given opportunity. That he could deal with. 

The door situation was still a problem. Gwen had attempted to get someone to come in to replace the door, but everything she tried involved permissions and formalities and a general abundance of red tape that she had no hope of breaking her way through any time in the near future. He ended up with a Japanese folding screen in his doorway to provide at least the illusion of privacy on that first night. It was destroyed by morning and on top of that, he’d somehow managed to lose his bed at some point during the night.

“At this rate, I’ll be waking up starkers by the end of the week,” he groused at Gwen as he gave in and brought a bag containing the rest of his belongings to her room that second day. He effectively had no place for his things and the sleeping situation was questionable at best. Being underage, he wasn’t allowed to stay over in the rooms of upperclassmen, so despite the fact that both Elena and Mithian offered to smuggle him in to their rooms so that he could get a good night of rest, it always ended the same. There would be a knock on the door promptly at ten, and either a subwarden or a UOTC cadet would be there to escort Merlin back to his room. 

Will just laughed at him and shook his head whenever they were in lectures together, but he proved to be as loyal as Merlin had hoped he would. He defended Merlin when he could and was there to help him off the ground when he couldn’t. A friendship formed between them. Whilst Will still looked at Merlin like he was too stupid to live, they understood each other in ways that no one else at Camelot ever would. That connection alone was enough to make the experience as a whole that much more bearable.

Merlin saw Gwaine on campus from time to time, walking with friends and throwing that flirtatious smile around. He was often with at least one of his other brother Dragons, and whilst he did put a stop to any harassment of Merlin that he saw, he did not acknowledge what had happened between them or make any attempt to pursue it. He just flashed that same smile and moved on as if Merlin were just anyone else on campus. That disappointment was hard to take, but he just used it as fuel for his on-going mission. He told himself it was silly to be hurt. After all, what more could he expect from someone who considered Arthur Pendragon a friend?

And so it went. The week dragged on. He spent his days in lectures, in the library, or in Gaius’ office completing assignments, and nights bouncing around his friends’s rooms. Gwen’s room was his most common haunt, as she had most of his belongings, but she had a life of her own and, understandably, spent most of her time with other friends and seeing to her subwarden duties. He saw her once arguing with the olive-skinned bloke from Pendragon’s team, but beyond that, rarely saw her outside of the residence. He hadn’t known it at the time, but the argument had been about him, and that was the spark that led to everything breaking. 

There were always whispers at Camelot, especially now that Merlin was everyone’s personal chew toy. The whispers were changing though, and Merlin’s hearing was good enough that he was very much aware of it when word was getting around about how much time Merlin was spending in Gwen’s room; about how his things were scattered around her space; about how close they’d become and how quickly. The prick she’d been arguing with was called Lance, and the two had apparently been together for ages; absolutely besotted with each other. But now there was tension, and Merlin was at the heart of it. 

If there had been ill words about Merlin, it would have been fine. He could have ignored it and moved on through the madness that his life had become. The problem, however, was that the rumors had twisted and turned against Gwen. Gwen was choosing Merlin over Lance. Gwen was slumming it with the charity case. Gwen was letting the Ambrose boy seduce her for her protection, and any number of other slurs against Gwen’s character.

It was day six when he saw the one thing that he would not stand for: Gwen being led back toward the residence, flanked by Mithian and Elena. They all had stony expressions, but it was clear that Gwen was near tears and that the group of laughing students they were walking from were the cause.

Merlin snapped. 

Before he realized what he was doing, he was making his way to the UOTC training fields. He vaguely recalled that there were people trying to stop him, cadets getting in his face, grabbing at his clothes. He shoved them aside or wriggled from their grasp. It was more than a little likely that his magic was slipping the leash again and assisting him in his goal. He didn’t know how he knew where to find Arthur Pendragon, and afterwards he would attribute it to magic again, but Pendragon was his goal, so Pendragon he found. 

His target was standing at the edge of the field with a group of others, watching cadets go through an obstacle course when the commotion called their attention to Merlin. One of the cadets had probably called out a warning. Merlin did not care. Lance was there, along with Gwaine, Gwen’s brother, and the other large bloke whose name Merlin never cared to learn. He as the largest of the group and the first to move to intercept Merlin as he stormed across the field. 

“Stand down, Percival,” Pendragon said, raising a hand to halt the other man. His icy glare never left Merlin as he approached, but there was something different to it this time. The proprietary air was gone as was the snide amusement. If anything, Pendragon seemed equal parts irritated and confused at Merlin’s sudden appearance. That served Merlin just fine. 

“You insufferable prat!” Merlin began without preamble. “Let these sheep do what they will to me, but they have no right bringing Gwen into this. She’s one of the only decent people in this shite hole, and I won’t see her hurt so that you can soothe your pride!”

There was thunder in Pendragon’s eyes as he opened his mouth to say something, but Merlin wasn’t done. 

“No,” he said, holding up a hand and halting the other man’s words. “I should have done this from the beginning.” He pulled a leather glove from his back trouser pocket and swiftly smacked it across Pendragon’s right cheek. The leather against flesh made a satisfying sound that seemed to echo in the shocked silence that followed. 

“You want to see me gone so badly? Have the bollocks to see to it yourself.” There was a red marker in Pendragon’s pocket, and insane as it was, Merlin was in for all, so whilst the prat was still gaping in shock, he snatched up the pen, uncapped it and drew a large red X across his forehead. 

“See how you like it for once,” he spat. “And for the record, I like cock!”

He didn’t know what possessed him to do it. Perhaps the rush of being there, surrounded by trained near-soldiers, and not instantly being beaten into mush; perhaps it was an unconscious need to make sure the point was made; maybe it was the way the sunlight caught in Pendragon’s hair making it shine, golden and blinding or the weight of Gwaine’s eyes on him, heavy and intent. Whatever the logic, Merlin decided that the best way to end the conversation was to lean in and plant a kiss full on those full and frowning lips. It was a quick and sloppy press of flesh to flesh, but a kiss it was, and proof positive that Merlin was madder than a hatter and, likewise, on his way to an early grave. 

Afterwards, he flashed Arthur his cheekiest grin before tossing the pen back at him and making his way back off the field. He had to check himself to be sure he hadn’t frozen time again, the field was so still. Apparently this was the first time that one of Pendragon’s targets had ever targeted him back. Merlin’s blood was singing in his veins at the sheer audacity of what he’d done, but he was no fool. The shock would wear off in a few seconds and he had to make his way clear of enemy territory before that happened. He set his sights on Gaius’ office and decided that he would not be emerging from the safety of that space until well after dark.

Word of Merlin’s deed spread like wild fire. By the time he was making his way back to his room that night, there seemed to be a division amongst the students: those who supported what he did, because thank heavens there were a fair amount of people at the school who didn’t think it right to harass a person into leaving, and then those who worshiped the ground on which Arthur Pendragon shat. It truly was disturbing the level of fanaticism that followed the man around.

To Merlin’s great relief, the latter party left him in peace for the most part, resorting to nothing more than sneers and glares. In fact, when he was accosted from behind, he was expecting to be dragged off into some dark corner and beaten, but instead found himself being smothered in a warm well meaning and familiar embrace. 

“Merlin! Merlin you foolish, foolish, _brilliant_ boy!” 

“Elena! I can’t breathe!” 

The arms promptly release him only for his face to be taken into her surprisingly calloused hands as she drops kisses to his cheeks, forehead, and in a moment of temporary madness, his mouth. 

“Elena!” he squeaked in a very dignified manner. 

“Oh pish posh,” she waved off his protest, “I figure you’re confident enough in your sexuality to be able to give a girl a little snog and not blush about it. Besides, we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other from now on so you might as well get use to me sooner rather than later.”

“More of you?” Merlin asked, “I think I see rather enough of you as is.” 

“There’s no such thing as enough of me, love.” Elena winked and blew him a kiss and Merlin couldn’t help the bubble of mirth that rose from his belly and burst from his lips. Elena joined in, and they laughed themselves silly for a good minute before Elena sobered up a bit, pulling Merlin back down from his high along with her. 

“Well, come on then,” she began directing him to his residence at a quick clip. “If you’re really planning to challenge Arthur Pendragon at his own game, you’re going to need all the help you can get. Mithi and Gwen are waiting in Gwen’s room. We’ve got some planning to do.” 

Merlin allowed himself to be led into his building. As they passed the gaping doorway to his room, he saw that his room was largely untouched since last he’d been there. An occurrence that was very unusual. There hadn’t been a day gone by that he hadn’t either lost something that he’d foolishly left behind or returned to find some unpleasant surprise waiting for him. This time, things were...fine. He’d only gotten a glimpse of the room as he went by it, but he could already tell that something had changed. 

“Arthur has accepted your challenge,” Gwen told him as soon as he and Elena stepped into the room. “He’s made it clear that no one is to touch you or your things unless given direct orders from him. Anyone who ignores his words will be made an example of.” 

“Basically what that means as far as I can tell,” Mithian added pulling Merlin down into a seat, “is that it’s you against Arthur, but you can bet that he’ll be using the rest of his Dragons to get his work done.” 

“And if the blond arse gets to have a support crew, why shouldn’t you?” Elena piped in. “If they’re dragons we can be...” she looked pensive for a moment before her face lit up, “unicorns!”

“Unicorns?” Merlin asked, a flat look on his face. “I don’t think I’m quite that gay.” 

“Well you don’t get much of a choice in it, do you? Beggars can’t be choosers.” 

“I’m not begging for anything! I never asked you to help me do anything!” 

“You didn’t,” Gwen adds quietly. “But I heard that you stepped in to speak up on my behalf, Merlin. No one has ever done what you’re doing right now, and it’s the least that Arthur deserves for his behavior these past few years. We want to help teach the pig a lesson or two.” There was a sudden spark to her eyes. “I mean, really Merlin, we can’t let you have all the fun.” 

“So it’s settled!” Elena declared. “Dragons versus Unicorns. This is going to be bloody fucking brilliant!” 

Merlin was poised to protest when there came a soft knock on the door. 

“Probably one of my other residents,” Gwen said, standing to answer. The voice that came through the door was familiar and very surprising. 

“You’re Merlin’s subbie, aren’t you?” it said. “Is that bloody wanker in there? I’ve got a few choice words for him!” 

“Will?” Merlin blurted out, rushing to the doorway to peer around Gwen’s shoulder. “What are you doing here?’ 

Will’s smile was almost too fierce to be considered one. It was not an expression that Merlin had seen on him before, though it was a close cousin of Will’s usual fuck-off face. This one was closer to an I’m-gonna- _make_ -you-fuck-off face. 

“I hear that some idiot went and faced down the biggest bloody pillock on the planet without his backup, and walked away with his face intact. I’ve been watching your back all week and you can’t even invite me to shit on Pendragon’s shoes with you? I’ve half a mind to piss off, but a chance to give Pendragon a little hell of his own is too good to pass up.”

It looked like Will would have said more, but Elena was there in a flash, pulling Will into the room and closing the door behind him. 

“You sound like someone perfect for our cause,” she told him conspiratorially. Will blinked at her owlishly. “There’s just one question you have to answer first before we can know if you can be trusted.” 

“What’s that?” Will asked. The hesitation was as plain in his voice as it was on his face and the rest of his body language, but Merlin was pretty sure that it had less to do with Elena’s proposition and more with the way her ample bosom was pressed to his arm. Elena gave him the most solemn look Merlin had ever seen her muster, leaning in a little further. That’s what made it all the more perfect when she asked, serious as could be: 

“What’s your take on unicorns?”

“Big Horn, this is Spiral-One. Do you copy?”

“Elena, I’m not responding to these ridiculous handles. No one is on this frequency. No one is going to hear us.” 

“Negative Big Horn. You never know when enemy Dragons might be snooping. Now, are you in position?” 

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Affirmative. Prick-Twat and company are en route to the canteen.” He was rather proud of the designation he’d thought up for Pendragon. 

“Copy that. I’m sending Rainbow and Sparkle in to make sure the trap is set. Straight-Man is delivering the package. Hurry over or you’ll miss the show.” 

“Copy that Spiral-One. I’m on my way.”

Merlin clambered down from his perch in the branches of one of the school’s taller trees and kept to the early morning shadows as he followed the group of future military men. It was clear that they were deep in thought, Pendragon’s face set in what Merlin had come to know as his command scowl. It was Pendragon’s default expression whenever he was concentrating on tactics or ordering his men about. Oddly enough, it also seemed to be one of his most sincere expressions. Merlin didn’t get the sense that there should have been something else there when Arthur was like this; focused, determined, in control. It was a rare glimpse at the man who had earned Gwaine’s loyalty and that of the other Dragons and all the other men and women who were Camelot Cadets; the man who lived beneath the stuck-up ass that Merlin saw swaggering about the campus. 

Merlin wasn’t quite sure when the idea had taken root in him, but he couldn’t deny the seed of curiosity planted in his mind after his last talk with Gwaine. Words. Words were insidious, layered in his thoughts, lying in wait for those quiet vulnerable moments when truths that one is not aware of make themselves known. _“...one of the few indulgences he allows himself,”_ Gwaine had said, and didn’t that just beg a million questions? Didn’t that suggest that there was more going on with the king prat himself than was plain to see? Didn’t that call far more attention to Arthur Pendragon than Merlin ever wanted to willingly give? 

So in all honesty, it was that seed that had taken root and hatched itself into this current situation. It was those words that had brought Merlin to where he was, sneaking into the canteen at far-too-early in the morning, following the Dragon Corps as they made their way to the first meal of the day. No matter how he tried to convince himself that there was ever an attempt to ignore that which could not be ignored, the truth was, he’d known his course of action from the moment Gwaine had said the words. He’d spent his almost-week of aggravation watching, learning, and had come to many a conclusion about Arthur Pendragon, none of which sat with him well.

“They’re in,” Merlin said into one of the hand-held radios Elena conveniently had in her possession. It came in handy that there were so many people in the school completely besotted with the UOTC and Dragon Corps in particular. It helped even more that there had been a time when Mithian and Elena had both been one of those people. It meant that their little band of rebels had insider information; knew that Pendragon was devoutly committed to schedules so they knew that he and his men were up at first light for morning exercises and had breakfast together immediately after. Pendragon had the same breakfast almost every day. Two hard-boiled eggs, a bowl of oatmeal and, if he was feeling adventurous, whatever fruit options were available at the time. He took his tea black, and drank enough water to sink a ship.

The key to this particular operation came in Pendragon’s choice in seasoning. He was a simple man. As Gwaine had so kindly pointed out, he allowed himself few indulgences, so where most would flavor their oatmeal with honey, or syrup, or cinnamon and sugar, Pendragon was far more utilitarian in his choices. Three shakes of salt, four of pepper. Stir. Eat. It was the same every day. Almost like a ritual. 

Merlin was counting on that ritual now as he observed from the upper level of the dining hall. He had a perfect view of the whole scene as it played itself out. By the time he was in position, the entire team had already collected their meals and were smiling, bantering back and forth the way that brothers-in-arms tended to. Even Pendragon’s features had softened some, though there were still hard lines in his brow making it clear that his mind was elsewhere even as he pulled out his chair to sit at the same table that they always occupied. 

This was the moment. Merlin clutched the radio in his hand tightly, palms damp with the sweat of anticipation. Pendragon wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation surrounding him, allowing his men their carefree moments whilst his mind seemed occupied by other matters. Merlin could hear some of what was being said and smiled at the playful threats that came from Elyan regarding the virtue of his sister. Merlin’s attention, however was entirely focused on Pendragon. The way he arranged his things in front of him, the way he reached out to grab the salt shaker first (three shakes) and then the pepper shaker that Will had so carefully prepared only moments before. Four shakes. No pepper. A moment of confusion. Just as anyone would, Pendragon tried again, shaking the pepper container a bit more forcefully and after the third or fourth shake, the top exploded from the shaker, quite spectacularly, showering Pendragon and half the table with lemon scented foam. 

Reactions were wildly varied. There were shouts of surprise from near-by patrons, all turning and staring at the sudden pop-hiss of the exploding pepper shaker. The room immediately when very quiet and very still as everyone present realized exactly what had happened and who to. Pendragon sat perfectly still, hand still extended, holding the shaker over his ruined breakfast. His face was a stone mask as foam dripped from his chin, some of it making a funny little mustache above his upper lip. 

Of course it was Merlin who broke the unnatural stillness of the moment. The sight of Arthur Pendragon, Chancellor’s son, head of the University Officer Training Corps sitting there looking a bit like a cat that had escaped an unwanted sudsy bath was too much. He snorted, rather loudly, giving his position away immediately, and Pendragon’s icy glare snapped up to look directly at him. Merlin didn’t stick around long enough to see what Pendragon would do. He bolted, and heard the sound of other feet pounding against hard wood floors as his accomplices made their own hurried escapes. 

There was other laughter following in his wake, and he was sure that it came from the men around the table. Gwaine’s voice in particular followed him, dripping with mirth as he drawled, “Looks like he’s drawn first blood, my friend.” Merlin beamed, because that is exactly what he had done. If Arthur was intent on tormenting him, he would pay it back in kind. Merlin had made his declaration the day before, but this was proof that he was serious. 

From this point forward, the game was on.


	6. Chapter 6

The weeks that followed were some of the best and worst of Merlin’s life. Growing up moving around as much as he did, making fast friends was a skill that Merlin had mastered early on, but he’d never had anything like this before. The camaraderie that had formed between himself and the rest of the Unicorns (Elena was quite persistent about the name) was unlike any of the bonds he’d had. They gathered at least once a week to plot, and then put their heads together to pull off some of the most outlandish schemes conceivable. x

Without meaning to, the whole thing had turned into brains vs. brawn. Merlin’s corner were all in the sciences and the Dragons were obviously UOTC and that led to a surprisingly balanced battle of wits and creativity and stealthy execution. Of course, it also meant that Merlin had to be constantly on his guard, because whilst the rest of the student population had taken to heart Pendragon’s declaration that no one else was allowed to bother him anymore, it also meant that Merlin got the prat’s special attention, and as Gwen promised, his tactics were, indeed, inventive. 

So far he’d had his lecture schedule shifted three times, been put under quarantine for a day for an illness he’d never even heard of, and somehow ended up with a wardrobe consisting entirely of black and white plaid.

“It’s rather fetching on you, isn’t it?” Mithian had commented on that first day when he came storming into the canteen, looking quite mad he was sure. It wasn’t simply that his clothes had been taken and replaced, it was as if the clothes themselves had simply been...changed, right down to the ratty neckerchief that remained the bane of his mothers existence.

Upon further investigation, Merlin had discovered that yes, there had been magic involved in the altering of his wardrobe, and that was the first time, to his knowledge, that Arthur Pendragon had actively used magic of any kind. It was the only sign so far that hinted that he might have had some knowledge of his father’s other pursuits. For as long as he could remember, Merlin had known of Uther Pendragon and the threat he posed to magic. The man who was fine with reaping the benefits magic had provided for the world, but made it clear that he had no love or trust for those who possessed it.

Merlin’s father always spoke of Uther with such deep-seated rage that Merlin had developed a healthy fear of the man, though his only interaction with him had been through images in newspapers and magazines or the speeches he’d give whenever his company had a new product to launch. It didn’t help that Uther Pendragon was the founder of one of the most influential technology brands on the planet for magic enhanced devices. Nor did it help that in the public eye, he was a friend to sorcerers and at the forefront of research into the fading of magic around the world.

It was impossible, especially at Camelot, to escape updates on PenTech products or hear about how well PenTech stock was doing. Its Magitech line was the only line of products to consistently keep magic at consumer fingertips and that fact terrified Merlin more than anything else. How was he doing it? There was no evidence, no proof of wrong doing. Nothing suspicious about the man at all aside from the fact that no one else could replicate his techniques to allegedly create ‘synthetic magic.’ The question of where that power was really coming from left something hollow deep in Merlin’s core, and the idea that Arthur might have something to do with it... Merlin didn’t like that thought at all.

Things had definitely begun changing in Merlin’s perception of the younger Pendragon. He still found the man to be pompous, stuck-up and generally insufferable, but there was part of him that was beginning to see that there was something more to Arthur Pendragon that wasn’t immediately discernible. Take the time that Merlin had been lying in wait in the loo just outside the training fields. He knew that Pendragon would be coming in at some point soon during the afternoon, just after practice and just before hitting the showers. He’d taken the time to mark all of the urinals as out of order and then sat to wait, a bucket of icy water cradled in his lap. When Pendragon had taken the obvious course and stepped into a stall, Merlin had been more than happy to pour the bucket of water over his head mid piss. Pendragon had come blustering out of the stall, limp prick still hanging from his open trousers, and Merlin had been there. In that moment, he was certain of his immediate demise. Nothing that he had seen from Pendragon had implied that there would be any course of action outside of Merlin being skewered where he stood, perhaps drawn and quartered by the other Dragons once they came rushing in to Pendragon’s call, as soon as such a call was made.

What Merlin had not expected, and never would forget, was the sudden blush, the awkward fumbling, the quick retreat back into the stall as soon as Arthur had seen that Merlin was there. Of all the words that Merlin had learned to associate with Arthur Pendragon, bashful was definitely not one of them, and he could not deny the pocket of warmth that blossomed in his chest at the discovery. That did not mean that Pendragon was any kinder, or that Merlin’s days were any easier, but it was something. And if the memory of Arthur dripping wet and blushing with his fly open and dick hanging out was something that occasionally fueled his wank fantasies, no one else needed to know about that.

It gave his mind something to work at when he was trying not to think at night, laying down on the hard floor of his dormitory, wrapped in blankets and ignoring the hall light. He tried hard not to think about Gwaine and the lost opportunity he had become, or the hints of more going on at Camelot than appeared on the surface. Better to focus on the mystery of Arthur Pendragon. The game was a bit of fun, and Merlin allowed it to be the distraction that it was meant to be as long as he could, but it could only last so long. There was still so much happening, so much for him to worry about. The magic. His growing power. The protection the dragon provided within its circle.

His father. 

It had been weeks since he’d heard from his mother. No word from her or the Catha about whether there was any progress in finding where his father had been taken, what had happened to him, if he was safe. If he was alive. The last Merlin knew without needing to be told. His father was a dragonlord, and as such, he and Merlin had a unique connection. It was what allowed Merlin to hear him in his dreams at times, and that same power would let him know if anything ever happened to his father.

On nights when the thoughts wouldn’t leave him in peace he found his feet taking him from his room and finding their way to the ever increasing pull of the stone dragon at the center of the school. There was something soothing about the feel of the air in the wild green that surrounded the beast, and whilst Merlin still dared not touch the stone for reasons he still couldn’t explain, he liked to lounge in the grass around it, or climb the small but sturdy trees that circled the area, staring up into the dark jewels of the dragon’s eyes, imagining that he could see gold glittering there. 

It was on one such night whilst Merlin lay looking up at the sky, reveling in the light of the moon and feeling the well of power within him respond to the power surrounding him, that Alator came to him, appearing from the shadows beneath the tree where Merlin lay.

“You should not be here alone at this hour, Lord Emrys.”

Merlin nearly fell from the tree at the unexpected sound of the Catha’s familiar accented speech so near, as if the man were speaking directly into his ear. 

“Alator!” Merlin definitely did not squeak. “What are you doing here? I thought that it wasn’t safe. And you used magic!” The last he said with more than a little accusation in his voice. He had been warned time and again against falling to the temptations of using his power within the Circle. 

“My power is nothing in the shadow of this great creature. There is no danger here for me. You however...”

“Right,” Merlin sighed settling back into his perch. “Great and powerful. No telling what could happen. Spare me the melodrama. Are you here for a reason or are you just pestering again?”

“Forgive me, Lord Emrys,” Alator said, ever deferential. “I bring word from your mother.”

“What?!” Merlin was out of the tree in an instant, not even remembering the trip to the ground. One moment there was a trunk against his back, and the next he was staring at the top of the Catha’s down-turned head, the man’s eyes lowered in a respectful bow as he held a worn wooden staff firmly in one hand. There was a reason that Merlin avoided the warrior-priests who were meant to be guardians of the Emrys of each generation. Being treated as some kind of sacred creature got old, very quickly. 

“Alator,” he snapped shaking the Catha’s shoulder. He barely noticed the jump in the man’s muscles. “What did you say about my mother? Where is she? Is she well?”

“I regret that I cannot say much,” came the predictable reply, “but she gave me this to give to you.”

Alator looked at him then, pulling an envelope from his robes and offering it to Merlin. Merlin took the folded paper as though it were made of spun glass, and it might as well have been. There was a part of Merlin that was certain he was dreaming, that the envelope would crumble to dust if he looked at it too closely. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, looking up at Alator once more, and for the first time he noticed the state the Catha was in. Even in the light of the moon, Merlin could see that his skin, usually a warm bronze, was too pale. There were beads of perspiration dotting his shaved head, and the circle of tiny blue markings around his neck stood out starkly against his skin. “Alator, are you alright?” Merlin asked, stretching out a hand to steady the man. To Merlin’s shock, Alator flinched back from his touch. 

“I am sorry,” he said, stepping away but still dipping his head in respect and supplication. “The magic here is unlike anything I have ever felt. Combined with the strength of your natural gifts...” 

“It must be driving you mad,” Merlin realized. He’d learned early on that his reaction to magic was very different to that of most magic users. To him, the power within the Dragon’s Circle was comforting; something warm and familiar despite how densely concentrated it became in closer proximity to the dragon. For others high concentrations of magic became uncomfortable, particularly if one was already sensitive to magical power. 

“It is something I have not had time to adjust to, Emrys. Please do not concern yourself on my behalf.” 

“You probably shouldn’t be calling me that around here,” Merlin said, quirking a wry grin as he carefully tucked the letter into his plaid trouser pocket. “You never know who might be listening in.” 

“Our conversation is protected. I have seen to it.”

“You mean that Orn is hiding somewhere around here keeping watch, the big lug. I always knew he had a soft spot for me,” he grinned. And if he hadn’t known the Catha for years and seen first hand that they all had their senses of humor trained out of them from birth, he would have sworn that Alator returned the gesture in the smallest possible quirk of lips. 

“It is good to see you well, Merlin,” the man said. “Know that the Catha are doing all in our power to return your father safely to you. There is great evil working against us, and I fear it is seeking you out. Take care, my lord. The world beyond these walls has become more treacherous than you can imagine.” 

“I’m sure. Thank you for coming Alator,” he hesitated for just a moment before asking. “Is she well? My mother?”

Alator seemed to soften just so at the need Merlin knew was shining from his eyes. “She is concerned, but your mother is a strong woman. She sends you her love.” 

Merlin nodded at that, and the conversation was done. Alator faded into the shadows again. Merlin was alone with the dragon. 

A thousand thoughts flew through his mind too fast for him to even consciously process. There was just too much. Too many subtle messages conveyed through physical signals and tone of voice. Things were not going well in the world. Something evil was rising against him, and Merlin was stuck, hands tied as he waited, hiding and hoping that the darkness wouldn’t find him. This did not sit well with him. 

He turned his attention to his mother’s letter, pulling it from his pocket and opening it carefully. It was written by hand, his mother’s elegant script sending a sharp stab of homesickness straight through his heart. He swallowed the feeling back and read: 

_Merlin, my dear, dear boy,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I know that I’m taking a risk in sending this to you, but I’ve missed you so much. It’s frustrating to be apart from you, frustrating to know that there is little I can do for you or your father but wait and pray and keep your secret. The world is changing Merlin, and I see now why your father was so afraid. The magic is still fading, and what is left is going strange. People are looking for answers and PenTech will be launching a line of products they claiming will stabilize the situation. I don’t trust it. Anything that has to do with Uther Pendragon can only mean bad things for the magical community._

_The Catha have narrowed down your father’s whereabouts to the island where Avalon Academy stands, but they cannot pierce the mist that protects the school. I don’t know why they want him or what is happening to him, and that is what weighs heaviest on my heart. Please be careful Merlin. I am being watched constantly, and I know that if your father’s enemies knew where you were the same would be true for you. You must stay hidden until your power is safe; for your sake, of course, but I fear that a great deal more is dependent on the power you are protecting._

_I love you always, Merlin. Until we meet again._

The letter was not signed, but it smelled of his mother’s perfume and that was all the signature he needed. He paused, wondering what to do with the letter. In his current living situation, it was too dangerous to leave such a damning piece of evidence anywhere it might be found. Part of him thought that he should burn it, just to be safe, but he couldn’t stomach the idea; needed this single connection to his old life like he needed air to breathe.

In the end, he decided that it would be safest to put the letter into Gauis’ office. No one would find it there and he could trust his godfather to keep it safe. The only problem was that the building where the office was located was already locked and Merlin was without a key. At the thought, there was a sudden flare of golden light and then a key appeared in his hand, warm and thrumming slightly with power. 

Merlin glanced up at the dragon, whose eyes seemed to almost be twinkling, (clearly a trick of the moonlight) then around the trees and greenery that made up the Dragon’s Circle. His power was so close to him here. He would have to be careful as his mother said. He took a final look up at the massive stone head, then started on the trek to Gaius’ to put the letter away. 

That night he dreamed of his father. It was a strange dream, like nothing he’d ever experienced before. It was a dream without images, only emotions and sensory input. There was a burning on his chest, above his heart where he knew his father’s Mark was. There was something wrong with it though. Something that he couldn’t name, but could feel in his bones. The image that kept coming to mind was of someone carefully attempting to peel the Mark away as if it were simply a sticker placed over his skin, but that didn’t make any sense. A Mark was a visible manifestation of one’s power. You could no more strip a Mark from a Sorcerer than you could rob one of their magic.

He woke to a lingering buzzy ache over his heart, and nightclothes consisting largely of pink feathers.

The week only went downhill from there. Merlin was not in the mood for practical jokes, despite the best efforts of his co-conspirators. There was too much going on in his head, too much to worry about. And the strange dreams about his father didn’t stop. He barely even noticed the regular assaults against his person, though if he were in the proper state of mind he would commend Pendragon and his men on their creativity and stealth, once again. It had to have taken considerable work to get all of his furniture to stick to the ceiling like that without him noticing, but now that Merlin was looking for it, he could see the hand that magic likely played in several of the schemes that had been acted out against him.

“Where’s your head, mate?” Will asked Monday while they walked together towards an evening game of footy. The Camelot Knights were playing against their rivals at Escetia and most of the school was out in force to jeer down the other team. Merlin was only there because Will had dragged him out.

“You’ve been in a snit all weekend.”

“I’m just tired, Will,” Merlin sighed. His time with friends had definitely been affected by his visit from the Catha. The outside world was sneaking in on him and he couldn’t help the way his focus was wavering. Now that he was actively looking for it, he could find signs everywhere that something was awry in the world beyond Camelot. There was an unknown illness cropping up in homeless populations. It effected the mind, manifesting as dementia and ending in a catatonic state that eventually lead to death for those on the streets. 

The occurrence of mental illness in homeless populations in and of itself was not strange, but there were rumors that many of those who fell to the illness were of sound mind. Allegedly, those who had become ill had gone missing for a time and only began showing signs of illness after their return. It was all hearsay, of course, but something about the story had Merlin on edge. It would be all too easy to exploit those who few would miss, but exploit how? And how would it be connected to the illness? 

There were also increased rumors on PenTech’s magic-healing technology and projections on sales that quite frankly made Merlin sick to his stomach. Gaius hadn’t learned much more about the things, but Merkin’s mind had no problem creating endless possibilities, each more horrific than the last. 

There were other things too. Quieter things. Stories of sorcerers abandoning technology and returning to nature, forming their own communities in the woods that outsiders had no access to. To the untrained eye, it would sound very similar to the Druid community, but there was one major exception. Merlin was suspicious of anything that refused access to outsiders. And there was a statement from Uther Pendragon supporting such communities. 

Merlin was restless to be doing something, anything to be helpful. Instead he was at school watching footy with a bunch of clueless sheep. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Will was sounding tetchy now, so Merlin figured he should start paying attention again. “No really, you weren’t listening to a word I said were you?” 

“Will,” Merlin rubbed his hands over his face, attempting to wipe his frustrations away. “I just have a lot on my mind, ok. Can’t we have one day without talking about how to take the piss out of Arthur Pendragon?”

Will gave him a look like he were an idiot, but Merlin took it. They’d gotten close enough over the weeks for him to know that that was Will’s default look for Merlin. The face that said he didn’t understand, but he couldn’t be arsed to try to either. 

“Christ,” Will griped, dragging Merlin down into a seat and pulling a crumpled back of nuts from his pocket. “I don’t know why I put up with you.” 

“Because we’re mates, yeah?” Merlin answered the question for him, feeling marginally better because he knew that this was Will’s way of trying to cheer him up. Will simply scoffed at him and began shoving nuts in his mouth, offering the bag to Merlin a moment later. Merlin smiled and helped himself to them. 

“So is it a bloke, then?” Will asked after a moment of quiet between them. Merlin nearly choked on his nuts. He looked at Will and could see the flush that had climbed up his cheeks. Merlin had to grin at this. Will was trying _so_ _hard!_  

“A bloke?” Merlin asked, choosing to play dumb. 

“Yeah.” Will shoved more nuts in his mouth. “You know. That is to say...” He made vague motions with his hands that Merlin had no clue how to interpret. “I’ve seen you making eyes with Pendragon’s man.” More nuts. “You know. The one with the hair. Did he do something?”

The reminder of Gwaine was a small damper on the moment, but only small. 

“So what if he did?” Merlin asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. Will flashed him one of his wolfish smiles. 

“I guess I’d hafta piss in his conditioner.” 

 Wednesday afternoon found him sitting alone in the canteen by a window that overlooked the grounds. He could see the dragon’s head from where he was and imagined that he could feel the power it radiated tickling at the base of his throat. He swallowed past the feeling and focused on his food.

A half-eaten pickle smacked him in the side of the head. Merlin did not react.

“Oh don’t tell me you’ve given up already.” 

Merlin had not had any direct contact with Arthur Pendragon since his declaration on the training field, which struck him as rather odd in that moment. For all the following and plotting and seeing each other almost daily, their communication was usually made through smirks or glares or other non-verbal cues. They didn’t need to speak. Their actions spoke loudly enough, and for all that the whole situation was rather irritating, Merlin couldn’t deny that there was something the tiniest bit wonderful in the planning and scheming and sneaking about. 

Now, with his target sitting not two tables away, brooding over his usual Wednesday lunch (egg salad on rye with tomatoes and pickles on the side) Merlin wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond. So he didn’t. 

“Don’t try to ignore me, Merlin. I promise you, I’m much better at getting my way than you are at keeping quiet.” 

“What makes you so sure?” Merlin snapped without thinking. He felt his cheeks warm as Pendragon smiled at him, that cocky, prattish smile that said Merlin had proven his point for him. 

“Because, _Mer_ lin,” he drawled, “everyone knows that the idea of keeping your mouth shut is foreign territory for you.” 

Merlin rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his meal. “Why are you talking to me?” 

“Just trying to find out if I should be sending some of my men to you to help you clear out,” Pendragon answered airily. “I’ll admit, you’ve lasted longer than I expected, but it really would be in your best interest to leave immediately.”

Merlin gritted his teeth against his growing irritation. “I like to think that I know what is in my best interest, and I like it here just fine, thank you.” 

“Well I just figure since you’ve apparently run out of ideas in this silly feud you started--” 

“Has it never occurred to you,” Merlin snapped rushing to his feet with a glare so heated that Pendragon actually flinched back, “that maybe I have more important things happening in my life than this childish game you insist on playing?! Contrary to popular belief, the world doesn’t actually revolve around you! Now if you’ll excuse me.” 

With that, Merlin lifted his tray of half-eaten food and headed for the bin, leaving a rather shell shocked looking Arthur to state after him. Merlin though he caught a whispered word that sounded something like “Mana” but ignored it for gibberish and made his way out. He didn’t have time for this. His appetite was gone and his thoughts were in chaos. He needed someplace quiet where he could be alone and think. Though his instincts pulled him in the direction of the Dragon’s Garden, he knew that the power there wouldn’t help to calm his mind, so, scratching his neck, he headed to the next logical place. He spent the rest of the day in Gaius’ office.


	7. Chapter 7

It all ended that weekend.

Merlin really should have seen it coming. He’d been ignoring “the cause” for too long; wasn’t there to contribute ideas or rein the others (usually Will and Elena) in from some of their wilder schemes. It was bound to blow up sooner or later, he just hadn’t expected it to happen quite so soon or quite so literally. 

Merlin wasn’t there when the prank was planned, so it wasn’t until later that he found out the full details of what had happened. What he did know was that he was eating supper alone again in the canteen when he felt something very wrong in the energy around the school. He’d been immersed in it long enough to understand that the power of the Dragon’s Circle didn’t simply hide magic from seeking eyes; it could amplify one’s power as well under the right circumstances. Merlin had first-hand experience with how near the surface his magic would become if he wasn’t paying attention; was well aware that he’d slipped up on several occasions, but his slips in comparison to the energy field he was within were insignificant. He was grateful that he had the training and control to keep the majority of his power contained. He could only imagine what would happen if magic were released within the Circle without anyone present to rein it in. 

Of course, as life would have it, imagination was not nearly enough. Apparently the fates had decreed that Merlin have a demonstration of just how dangerous undirected magic could be within the Circle. Somewhere near-by, a seed had been planted. A complex bit of magic had been activated. Under normal circumstances, the spell—whatever it was—would likely have been very impressive, but it would have quickly run its course and terminated on its own. That’s what all self-contained spells were designed to do. But something about this one was wrong. Perhaps it was poorly made or perhaps the power of the Circle interfered with its original design. No mater the reason, the outcome was set. The spell wasn’t terminating. Its magic had somehow connected to the Circle’s magic, and the original purpose was amplifying, but without a caster there to re-direct the magic, it was beginning to spiral out of control! 

Merlin didn’t remember stepping away from his meal. He didn’t remember exiting the canteen or rushing towards the commotion coming from the UOTC training field. All he knew was that he’d felt the danger, then he was panting for breath, gazing across an obstacle course gone mad. Students from the campus proper were running towards the field to find out what was happening. Cadets were retreating from the field following the orders of their commanding officers, and the spell… well, the spell probably would have been amusing under different circumstances.

There was brightly colored mist along with shimmering motes of light drifting across the field originating, it seemed, from one of the climbing walls. Some of the students around Merlin were even laughing as the pseudo-military units fled from what, superficially, appeared to be rainbows and sparkles.  He immediately knew that Elena was involved in this somehow. The problem was, the rainbow mist wasn’t dissipating. It was, in fact, becoming denser as time passed. And the sparkles were beginning to behave more like sparks. Loud pops and bangs filled the air as the once innocent motes of light ignited and exploded in turn. Each explosion seemed to create more of the tiny lights, which as Merlin watched, melded together creating larger masses of light and larger explosions. The power of the explosions was growing exponentially, and Merlin was just grateful that the magic was taking its time in building momentum because he could see all too clearly where it would lead.

People were beginning to cough, as the mist drifted closer to the crowd, tainting the air with whatever precipitate was used to create the illusion. Panic was beginning to set in as people realized that the spell was expanding. There was a sound, like a shot somewhere close to where Merlin was standing; one of the lights had become strong enough that when it detonated near the ground, it sent up a shower of earth that came raining down on the crowd. People were screaming now, running in terror as if a bomb had been detonated, and why not? That was essentially what was happening. A thousand tiny bombs, exploding and reforming, getting bigger and stronger with every detonation. 

Merlin felt his own panic growing, spurred on by the flood of emotions surrounding him, but he took control of his reaction immediately. Panicking would not help anyone, and it was clear to Merlin that he was the only one who could help. 

He was grateful for the mist. It provided the perfect cover for him to work. In the chaos of fleeing bodies, no one noticed that he was the only one moving towards the field rather than away. Except that wasn’t wholly accurate. Merlin could hear voices shouting, controlled commands within the screaming confusion. In a moment of surreal clarity, Merlin saw Arthur Pendragon strapped into a leaf blower. Someone ran to him with a gas mask in hand and something that Merlin couldn’t see. Arthur accepted both items and stared grimly into the mist before pulling on the mask can powering up the blower. 

_He’s going to try to stop the spell at its source,_ Merlin realized, and rushed headlong into the mist hoping to beat Arthur to the climbing wall. Merlin could not have dreamed of a better cover. Let Pendragon take the credit for stopping this thing. If everyone was looking to their golden boy, there would definitely be no eyes on Merlin. 

Merlin had no difficulty locating the source of the magic. He did have some trouble navigating the field, however, forced to move carefully as poles and tires and fences emerged from the colorful fog at unexpected intervals. It was difficult to split his concentration between picking his way across the field, keeping away from the buzz of the leaf blower, avoiding the little detonating lights, and figuring out how to stop the spell. As he neared the epicenter, he paused realizing that it might look a bit strange if her were seen leaving the field once the spell began to dissipate. He revised his destination, angling off to the shower stalls that were near the climbing walls, but also near enough to several options for escape that he should be able to sneak off with ease afterwards. He jumped as a particularly loud bang detonated just behind him sending him to the ground. He scrambled back to his feet and hurried to where he thought the stalls were. 

He could hear the leaf blower, near; knew that Pendragon would be doing his thing soon. Merlin still wasn’t sure how to bring the spell under his control, and he was running out of time. He’d start with the mist. Opening himself to the _feel_ of the magic, he could tell that the mist was the simple part of the spell. It probably would have dissipated on its own it weren’t connected to the intricate light show that made up the other part of the spell. The precipitate was mostly water with a bit of earth mixed in. Elemental magic. Child’s play for Merlin. If he could sever the connection to the light, he could direct the earth and water back to where they belonged.

The question was the lights. As best Merlin could tell, they were bits of pure energy. That’s what had called and connected to the power of the Circle. He could think of only one way to gain control of the things. He’d have to link them to his own power. But for an un-marked sorcerer, that was a dangerous thing to do, linking himself to a strange bit of magic that he didn’t fully understand. He couldn’t even control his own power fully yet. Connecting to this madness could practically be suicidal. 

Another explosion. The largest yet. They would only get worse. Merlin resigned himself to his course. If he did nothing there was no telling how much damage this thing would do before it decided to blow itself out. Trying not to think too hard about it, Merlin sought out the tiniest bit of light he could find, and with a wry tilt of his head, snatched it out of the air. He pulled it into himself, tasting it, getting a feel for its essence, gasping as it bled into his own magic creating the most delicate of links to the rest of the power drifting over the field. If he closed his eyes he could practically see it, shimmering strands of spider’s silk stretching from him to all of the lights. If he could just— 

Melin gagged, falling over to lean again the wall of the shower stall as sudden nausea and vertigo hit. Something had just happened; something that felt like a pit of nothingness had been opened and was trying drag Merlin into it. His mind processed the situation in a split second. Something had neutralized a pocket of magic. Very likely what Arthur Pendragon had gone in to do at the climbing wall. Merlin knew from his parents that PenTech created such technology for their military partners. The problem, in this situation, was that this neutral pocket had been created within a field of magic. It had created a vacuum, and magic would rush to fill the void. All of the floating bits of energy would coalesce within that pocket, and, oh, the detonation that would follow. Best-case scenario, the training field would be destroyed. Worst-case…he’d rather not think about. Either way, the explosion would vaporize the young man at the epicenter. 

It took Merlin a split second to understand what had happened and what the outcome would be, and another to see the only course possible. All of that power would coalesce in that pocket and wreak havoc… 

…unless it had somewhere else to go. 

As the magic rushed to fill the void, Merlin _pulled._ Those spider-silk threads of connection proved to be iron clad as all that power rushed at him, bombarding his carefully constructed barriers with every impact and testing the limits of his control. He was sure he cried out as the power overwhelmed him, certain that he’d die as magic turned his blood to flames. 

_Too much,_ some distant part of his mind understood. Every part of him was saturated with power. He felt like he was coming apart. Like his cells were shifting into the little motes of light and he would drift off, dissipate with the mist to become one with the magic of the Dragon’s Circle. The pain was fading. His mind was awash with golden light, drifting in a state that was somehow familiar in its detachment. He was at peace. The school and everyone in it were safe, and he knew that he wasn’t dying now so much as shifting. He’d live forever in the magic; shimmering gold and always abiding. 

Deep warm laughter rolled through the gold, washing over what was left of Merlin’s consciousness. _Perhaps someday, young Warlock,_ it seemed to say, _but that time is not yet upon us._

Something cold invaded his drifting. Cold and oddly slimy moving between his fingers. His hand. He squeezed his hand into a fist and felt the cold squish. _Mud_ , his mind supplied as the smell of it hit him. His hand was squeezing mud. But the mud wasn’t cold anymore. In fact, it was rather pleasantly warm. 

It took a bit of time, but comprehension was slowly dawning. He could feel the power in his blood bleeding out into the earth. _The element of stability foundations, and the body._ He was lying on the floor of the shower stall. He must’ve fallen when he’d called to power into himself. The stalls were simple; metal walls and a door, none of which reached the ground. The concrete that they stood on was enough to give the user something solid to stand upon, but didn’t reach far beyond the stall itself. When Merlin had fallen, the stretch of his body had sent his arm beneath the stall’s wall. His body had made contact with the earth, and that had somehow forged enough of a connection to allow some of the excess magic to be released. 

As he focused on the area where his hand was he could see the trail of life originating from him and moving steadily towards the near-by wooded area. As he watched, green grass began to sprout where the blades had been dry and dead. Other plants began breaking the surface as well. The shrubbery at the edge of the woods became lush and verdant as though it were the height of Spring as opposed to the middle of Autumn. _Beautiful,_ some part of him whispered, wanting to encourage the life. He might have kept at it if not for a sourceless mental nudge that stank of fire, and the sudden realization that he couldn’t stay there! 

Panic again attempted to assert itself, and again, Merlin leashed it tightly. He could see that there was enough mist in the air yet that it was unlikely that anyone had noticed the newly greened section of trees, but that wouldn’t last long. Trusting that the bigger event would mask his doing, Merlin cast a low-level glamour over the new growth that would disguise the changes from anyone not looking too closely. He hoped that if it faded the anomaly would be attributed to the rouge magic that had taken place on the field. 

That done, Merlin struggled to his feet, swaying drunkenly at the rush of _still-too-much_ sparking through his blood. He’d have to get to someplace safe; someplace where he would figure out what to do with the rest of it; someplace where it could be released without notice. There was really only one option on the grounds. 

He struggled with the stall door a bit before he succeeded in opening it. Stumbling out into the mist, he paused, attempting to orient himself as his head continued to swim. The mist was dissipating but he couldn’t quite see his surroundings yet. There was a path to the campus proper somewhere near if he could just… 

He didn’t hear the rapid pounding of footsteps until it was too late, and even once he did, he didn’t recognize them for what they were. Rough hands grabbed him from behind, shoving him against the outside of a shower stall, pinning him. He was too dazed to even struggle. 

“ _Ambrose_ ,” a furious voice snarled at the back of his head before hauling him upright again and frog-marching him away from the field towards the knot of flashing lights and frantic activity that had formed near the field’s entrance. “I should have known,” the voice growled, and this was the point where panic finally won over Merlin’s well-practiced control. The voice belonged to Arthur Pendragon, and Merlin had been caught entirely too close to the action. Adrenaline flooded his veins, clearing his head enough for him to understand how very bad things looked for him. 

“I’ve found our culprit,” Pendragon declared tersely shoving Merlin towards Elyan and Lance who’d greeted them once they’d cleared the denser section of mist. 

“Are you sure, Arthur?” Elyan asked placing a steadying hand on Merlin’s shoulder when he swayed. “A couple have already confessed to the Major.” 

“He’s the ring leader,” Arthur countered. “He must have known, helped somehow.” 

“No,” Merlin finally managed, gaining control of his tongue. Of all time for words to fail him! He turned frantic eye to his accuser “I didn’t—”

“Don’t even try, Merlin,” Pendragon told him stepping in close to his face, voice tightly controlled. “Just don’t.” 

There was an odd look of betrayal in the other man’s eyes that left Merlin baffled as he was guided to the larger gathering. Major Hector deMaris, Commanding Officer of the UOTC was at the heart of the crowd of people, verbally taking strips off of two figures who stood with their shoulders hunched, wrapped in emergency blankets. 

“Sir,” Arthur smoothly interrupted the older man’s shouting, stepping forward holding a still swaying Merlin by the arm. “I’ve found this one as well. I believe he may also be involved.” 

“No!” This time the protest came from one of the two hunched figures and a moment later, Elena was standing protectively between Pendragon and Merlin. “Merlin had nothing to do with this! I told you! It was my idea, Will was just along for laughs, but Merlin didn’t even know! I swear!” 

“Then what was he doing out there just now?!” Arthur demanded. The gathered onlookers had quieted when Pendragon and his men had dragged Merlin forward. Now, all eyes suddenly turned to Merlin, waiting for his answer. 

“I-I fell,” Merlin stammered. It was becoming difficult to concentrate again, the magic in his blood trying to take his attention.” 

“You alright, mate?” Will was suddenly in his face, brows creased deeply in worry, steadying hands on his shoulders. When had he moved? The confusion was enough to have Merlin rally his thoughts, attempting to put together a story that was plausible enough when he was having a hard time remembering what had even happened as is. 

“Yeah,” he said, smiling at his friend, taking comfort in the warmth and concern Will was radiating. Merlin tried to tell his side again. 

“I was eating,” he explained. “At the canteen when it started. E-everyone was running to see, so I ran too. Then the lights and the mist.” God’s it was hard to get his thoughts straight, let alone articulate them! “Everyone was running again, away this time. Something bright popped near me. I fell. I dunno. When I got up the mist was around me. I couldn’t tell where I was. Everyone had gone so I just kept walking. The lights were still blasting everywhere so when I found the stalls I thought maybe I’d be safe there until the mist cleared. Then,” he hesitated, gathering his wandering thoughts again. “I dunno. Something else happened, and I fell again. I dunno.” He reached up a hand to scratch an itch on the side of his head and hissed, pulling his hand away sharply. His fingers came away tipped in bright red. 

_Huh,_ he thought. _When did that happen?_  

“Christ, you’re bleeding!” Will hissed. Furious, flinty eyes went straight to Pendragon over Merlin’s shoulder. “You’re dragging him around like a criminal and he’s hurt, you arsehole!” 

Things got even more confusing from there. Hands pulled him from Will’s hold, leading him to the ambulance that was parked nearby. Bright lights were shined in his eyes calling attention to the raging headache he’d been unaware of until that moment. There was more prodding at the side of his head, lightning strikes of pain as the wound was cleaned, but Merlin began paying very close attention when mention of hospitals came into the conversation. 

“No,” he said to the solemn-faced medic. “I’m fine, really.” 

“You don’t seem fine,” the voice belonged to Lance who made up the set of stabilising hands to his left whilst the medic worked on his right. “You’ve been in a stupor the whole time we’ve been working on you. You can’t seem to sit up or stand up straight, and you’re having trouble articulating. The wound doesn’t look sever, but you could be concussed. You need to be looked at by a doctor, Merlin.”

“Doctor,” Merlin thought frantically. He didn’t think he was hurt very badly, but he was still carrying an unacceptably high level of excess magic within himself. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep it before it found its own way out. He had to get out of this. There was no way he could allow them to take him to a hospital off campus, _especially_ in his current state. But they wanted him to see a doctor…  

“Gaius!” he realized suddenly, shoving the hands away and stumbling to his feet. “Dr. Pritchard! He’s my—” he stopped himself short before saying godfather. That wasn’t knowledge he was allowed to share “—doctor,” he finished lamely. “He’ll look me over. I’ll go to him right now! He should be in his office. I’ll just…” He continued his rambling, doing his best impersonation of himself as he slipped away from the two at the ambulance. 

Lance looked on at him with worried eyes that made Merlin feel like a heel for all the times he’d mentally cursed the man’s name, but he didn’t follow. Everyone else was too distracted to notice that Merlin was slipping away, and if there was a slight chance that magic helped keep everyone away, they would never be the wiser. 

He moved as quickly as he dared, dragging feet that felt too heavy towards the campus’ center. He felt bloated, like his skin was stretching, flesh expanding with the glut of power he’d been forced to hold on to. His vision began fading, washing out in shimmering gold. His mind kept drifting, filled with strange thoughts and urges; a growing need to set things as they should be, but for the life of him, Merlin couldn’t understand what that meant. 

He was sure that he was losing time, and vaguely afraid that he was losing his mind. Through it all, he felt compelled to continue forward, pulled by a soundless call, guided by the distant blaze of heat and fire. When next his vision cleared, he found himself standing before the Great Dragon. 

In such close proximity to the dragon, the excess power in his blood began to sing, filling him with light that burned, but also somehow belonged. His hand move to his neck where heat blossomed, slow and relentless until he was gasping with it, barely able to think beyond the pain. He felt his knees sink into the grass as they collapsed beneath him, both hands scrabbling at his neck, tearing cloth away in an attempt to lessen the pain. 

_It’s the magic_ , he knew. It was all the excess within him that was hurting him now. He had to release it. Had to let it go. He was safe now. As long as he moved deep enough into the garden, no one would know what he had done. But Merlin found that despite his desire, he could not release the magic. It would seem that the magic had no intention of letting him go. 

He choked on a cry of despair as he felt something in him rising; a cold detached presence that filled him with terror even as it he recognized it as something that belonged. _No_ , he thought desperately, pulling himself deeper into the heart of the garden. _No_ , again, the only thought that could survive amongst the fear and pain. He stripped his shirt as he went, knowing that the exposed skin was necessary. Small scratches formed on his hands and arms, his exposed back. This too he knew would be necessary. 

Between one move forward and the next he found himself falling into water’s cool embrace. It washed over him, taking away pain and fear and pressure. The excess was finally gone, pulled from him by the water’s touch, and he could have cried in relief at the feel of his natural magic seeking and finding balance once more. He hadn’t felt such peace in far too long. 

As the feeling faded, he found himself upright on his feet but submerged in the depths of the water, grounded in his power rather than overwhelmed. Mind clear for the first time in what felt like ages, he pushed to straighten his legs and broke the surface, emerging into the cool evening and basking in it. Power was flowing freely through his veins, moving through him, the earth, the water, the very air. He knew that were anyone watching, they would see his eyes blazing gold as he opened them. He didn’t care. It had been so long since he’d been allowed this feeling; magic free flowing and unrestrained. He wanted to bask in it, just a little longer. 

The harsh sound of clapping shattered the moment. Merlin startled, heart pulsing terror through his veins as he caught the magic that instinctively tried to lash out and directed it back down into the water. He spun in circles, seeking the source of the sound and in doing so lost his footing. As he splashed and spluttered in the water, his mind was finally brought fully to the present. He took in for the first time the spring-fed pool of water he was standing in, the circle of stones surrounding it. It was a place of power. One that he’d never heard spoken of before, and one that he had led an enemy straight to, because he’d finally found the source of the clapping. Leaning so casually against one of the large stones, watching him with flinty eyes, was Arthur Pendragon. 

“What are you doing here?” Merlin asked, voice breaking as panic squeezed his throat. 

“What am _I_ doing here?” Pendragon parroted back, straightening from his leaning position. The tone of his voice was casual enough, but Merlin knew better than to trust the voice. Everything else about the man before him was broadcasting menace and fury. “I believe that is a question that I should be asking you. _Sorcerer_.” 

Merlin gaped, trying to catch up with what was happening and how. This place was sacred. Everything in him screamed with the knowledge of ancient power and secrets that had been hidden for ages. Merlin had only found it because he was in desperate need. How had Pendragon been able to follow? The protections of the Dragon’s Garden kept out any who didn’t belong. How could Arthur Pendragon— 

“Have you nothing to say for yourself, Merlin? You, a sorcerer, fleeing from the scene of a magical incident, and from the look of that half formed Mark on your neck, one who isn’t even able to handle his own power yet! You still expect me to believe that you had nothing to do with what happened today?!” 

Despite the dire situation that he now found himself in, Merlin’s mind stuck on only one point in Pendragon’s tirade. 

“Mark? What? My neck?” Merlin’s mind went straight back to the burning agony he remembered from what had to have been mere minutes before. His hand flew to the still-warm flesh on the right side of his neck. Ignoring Pendragon completely, he focused his attention down to the pool of water he still stood within, calling forth a globe of light as he willed the water’s surface to still to mirror flatness. He examined his reflection carefully eyes easily finding the pale-blue impression of a developing Mark forming in the place where the pain had been most concentrated. 

His heart rate picked up again for very different reasons this time as he ghosted fingers over the sensitive skin. _Finally._ Soon he would learn the shape his power would take, and once the Mark had finished forming, he’d finally be Safe. He’d be able to stop hiding, maybe help in the search for his father. He’d be free to finally use his gifts and take a stand against those who would do harm to the sorcerers of the world. He’d be able to take his place in the magical community. 

“…and you haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

Merlin’s attention snapped back to the garden’s other occupant. Pendragon had been speaking the entire time that Merlin had been studying his skin in the water, but Merlin, as the other man had noted, had not been listening to a word. There was something strange about the way Merlin’s magic did not respond to this Pendragon as a threat. Combined with the fact that the garden seemed to welcome him as well, Merlin was left with yet another question to add to the mystery that was every growing around Arthur Pendragon. Feeling oddly calm, Merlin addressed Arthur directly. 

“I already told you that I had nothing to do with what happened on the training field today. I don’t know what more you want from me.” 

“What I want is the truth!” Pendragon snapped rushing to Merlin and pulling him out of the water and away from his reflection. “I want to know why you’re here when every sorcerer knows to stay clear of this place! Even if I believe that you weren’t responsible for the incident today, that doesn’t explain the rest! Doesn’t explain why you’re here in the first place. After what happened today, I should report you to my father immediately!” 

“You can’t!” Merlin growled, extricating himself from the other man’s hold. “You can’t say anything! No one can know about me. Especially not your father! I’m still trying to understand how _you_ found me.” 

“As if I wouldn’t notice you stumbling off like a drunken lemur. I followed you, of course. You left before Major DeMaris could question you properly, and honestly Merlin, with the lack of control you had over the excess magic you were carrying, I was concerned that you would spark another incident.” 

Merlin stared at him, a touch stupefied as the words sunk in. “You…you knew. You knew I had magic all this time?!” 

“No, I didn’t know about your magic, _Mer_ lin, until today. Imagine my surprise when I set out to execute a very brilliant, very dangerous plan to terminate a spell gone wild at its source only to see the backwash of power that would have destroyed the training field and some had my timing been off at all, fly over my head to vanish into a shower stall. And then there you were, stumbling about like the idiot you are, all but glowing with wild magic.” 

Pendragon held up his wrist, calling attention to the very expensive looking gold watch he was never seen without. “This is a prototype of a discreet aurameter. My father doesn’t trust any kind of power he doesn’t control. You think he doesn’t know about this place? What it means to sorcerers and the protection it provides? He’s been working for years on a way to detect active magic on campus grounds. So far it can only detect abnormally high levels of power, but you’re lucky no one else has anything like this. You would have been outed in an instant.” 

Merlin swallowed thickly, hoping that he was reading the situation correctly. If not he would have to run before there was a chance for Uther to bring any of his forces down against him. 

“So then…” Merlin began carefully, “…you knew. You knew that I called the magic to me after you’d created the vacuum.” 

Pendragon signed, running hand through his hair. “Yes, _Mer_ lin. I knew that it was you who controlled the backwash, most likely saving my life and the lives of everyone near the field today.”

Merlin’s eyes snapped to Pendragon’s tired gaze and he was met with something unexpected. There was that same arrogance that drove Merlin to distraction, but mixed with it was a healthy dose of curiosity and what could almost be described as gratitude. Merlin didn’t know how to respond to this. 

“So here is my question,” Pendragon began, stepping forward and around Merlin. “You’re young, clearly powerful, have some degree of book smarts at least. Why come to Camelot? The Avalon Academy should have been throwing themselves at you ages ago.” 

Merlin couldn’t help it. After what he’d learned about his father and Avalon, his entire body tensed at the mention of the name.

“Ah.” It wouldn’t have taken a person as observant as Pendragon to pick up on his discomfort. Merlin had given himself away entirely. “So, you’re hiding from Avalon. And you’re hiding from my father. I must say, Merlin. You clearly think very highly of yourself to believe that two of the greatest powers in the nation, if not the world, would care so much about your existence. Why would that be?”

It was cool beneath the trees, and now that the power that was in his blood was not burning him, Merlin found himself shivering, a fact that he resented when Pendragon was still prowling around him, watching, patiently waiting for an answer in the globe of warm light still hovering above the water’s surface. 

“My reasons are my own,” Merlin managed through clenched teeth. He wondered what the risk would be of using magic to make Pendragon forget all of this. 

“If you’re thinking of using magic on me,” Pendragon began, startling Merlin with the accuracy of the guess, “don’t. My father has also made sure I was protected by the latest in PenTech defense against magical attacks. And if you expect me to keep this from my father, you’re going to need to give me something more than ‘my reasons are my own.’ What are you doing here Merlin? Why shouldn’t I go straight to my father and let him know that a very powerful and potentially dangerous sorcerer is attending his school?” 

“Because it would be my life!” The words exploded from him, fueled by panic and frustration and the hope that the hint of the courageous man Merlin had seen in Pendragon on the field today would care enough to at least hear him out. 

“Look,” he sighed, running a hand down his face. “It’s complicated, okay? But you know enough about how this goes to know that my power isn’t safe until my Mark is fully formed and my magic bound to me.” 

Pendragon nodded. 

“Well both sides want what I have. And I can’t allow either to have it. The Circle protects me from the Seers at Avalon, and I was supposed to lay low and keep out of trouble whist I was here so I wouldn’t bring myself to Uther’s attention.” 

“I can see how successful you’ve been at that,” Pendragon commented dryly. The tension had eased from his body and Merlin knew already that his secret was safe again, at least for the time being. “You really are rubbish at this, Merlin. What possessed you to think that the best way to stay out of trouble was to antagonize the chancellor’s son?” 

“Hiding in plain sight, I guess,” Merlin sighed. He finally took the moment to seek out his shirt from where he’d all but ripped it off. He looked ruefully at the tattered remains but still chose to pull it back over his still-damp flesh. “So, what do you want from me?” he asked, struggling with the shirt. “You know my secret. What will it take to buy your silence?” 

Merlin watched as Pendragon’s eyes raked over his body. He was still barefoot, his ripped shirt clung wetly to his torso, trousers washed back to their original brown in the pool’s waters. A shiver ran through him at the predatory look, panic seizing him for a moment. Pendragon wouldn’t... 

“I’ve had a thought,” the other man said, suddenly all business. “I think we both can agree that this feud between us has officially gotten out of hand.” 

Merlin eyed him cautiously, still not trusting his words, but nodded. 

“Good. Then I believe that I’ve come up with a solution that will be mutually beneficial.”

Merlin listened to Pendragon’s proposition and felt like he was going to be sick all over the Great Dragon’s tail. This couldn’t be happening. Maybe he should just leave after all. Maybe he could hide in a band of traveling clowns. He looked at Pendragon and his triumphant smile, the hand hovering in front of him waiting to seal the agreement. Merlin resigned himself to the fate he’d brought upon himself. 

He took the hand, and shook. 


	8. Chapter 8

It felt like weeks had passed since the incident at the training field, but it had barely been a couple of hours. He did have to go back to the field and answer some questions, and he did get some odd looks at his waterlogged appearance, but with Pendragon vouching for him this time, scrutiny was not very heavy and he was allowed to leave with minimal hassle. As Merlin sat allowing Gaius to examine first his head then his neck, it felt almost as if he’d stepped out of the previous day and into an entirely new one, with new promise and new meaning. 

“It’s finally happening, Gaius,” Merlin said eagerly. “My Mark is forming. It won’t be long now.” 

“It would appear so, my boy,” Gaius answered standing from his bent position. “But don’t get ahead of yourself. The Mark is only just beginning to develop. It has yet to even exhibit any recognizable symbols. I’d say that you are right on time for your Coming of Age. We’ll keep an eye on its development and see what we should be expecting come the solstice.” 

Merlin took the small hand-held mirror that Gaius offered him and took a closer look at the skin on the side of his neck. The Mark, so far, was just a bluish blob, round and small. If he focused on it, he thought he could feel the power in his blood coming together to define the pattern, tingling as it prepared to make itself known. Merlin had witnessed this process in others, had grown up around Druids and their children, the celebrations that surrounded the time of Coming of Age. The congratulations and pride of parents when their child’s Mark finally began to develop.

He’d seen what developing Marks looked like, and knew that the greater the potential power, the more uncomfortable the process of development could be, but he’d never seen a shape begin quite like his had. Amongst the druids, there were a few Marks that commonly surfaced, the triskelion being the most common of them, and the Marks were usually relatively small, developing over one vital point or another. The spot on his neck was already the size that many fully formed Marks. He had no clue what to think of a new Mark being that size. 

“I’m going to have to hide this somehow,” he mused aloud, touching at the skin which still felt slightly warmer that the rest of his neck. “What color do you think it’ll resolve to?”

“With you Merlin,” Gaius sighed, “I cannot begin to imagine. You’ve never managed to do anything the way that is expected, now have you?”

Gaius stepped over to a pile of things he had in one corner of the office and came back with a largish square of red fabric. “Your mother may hate me for this, but it looks like we might need to increase your neckerchief collection. They may not entirely be in fashion,” he said folding the material in half then wrapping it around Merlins neck and tying it in place, “but it will do. We are fortunate that the weather is cooling. You can wear scarves to cover it as well and no one would think anything of it.” 

Merlin eyed the kerchief tied about his neck on his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t know why everyone gave him such grief over his neckerchiefs. He actually found the look to be rather fetching, but the red of the material reminded him of the red of Pendragon’s cap, and one other conversation piece came rushing to mind. This one would not be nearly so exciting... 

“Gaius, there’s something I should tell you.” 

 “You’re going to be his _what_!?” 

Of all the people that Merlin expected to react poorly to the news of his new status in Arthur Pendragon’s life, he never would have guessed that Mithian would be the most vocal about it. Of course, Will and Elena both had been generally quiet since the incident the day before, and Gwen looked to be in a state of shock, too stunned to make any sounds at all. He’d asked Gwen the night before to have everyone meet in her room in the late morning so that he could break the news to the group as a whole. Despite the less than ideal circumstances surrounding the groups dissolution, the Unicorns deserved to at least hear from him why their alliance was ending. 

“You heard me well enough the first time, Mithian. Arthur and I agreed that all of this had gone too far already and me helping him out in his responsibilities seems a fair price to pay. I am, I suppose, in a not really logical way at all, the one who started all of this. I’m man enough to accept the consequences of my actions.” 

“My _ass_ you were the one who started this! And I don’t care what you did, he’s no right to make you his _slave!_ ” 

“Assistant,” Merlin corrected quickly. “He says that it’s the next step in the induction process. Apparently all the others just never made it this far.” 

“That’s a load of bloody buggering bollocks and you know it!” Mithian exclaimed, surging to her feet. 

“Actually it’s not.” 

Completing Merlin’s morning of the unexpected, Arthur Pendragon himself had appeared at Gwen’s door, looking smug, and groomed, and entirely too together for a lazy Sunday. The door had been left unlocked and slightly ajar, as subwardens tended to do, and Arthur had happily let himself in, stepping into the room without invitation. 

“It’s as Merlin said,” Pendragon continued. “We had a bit of a heart to heart yesterday, and I realized that this would be the best solution for all parties involved. Now come along, Merlin. If you’re to be my assistant, there is a good bit of things you’ll need to learn. And considering how idiotic you’ve proven yourself to be so far, you’ll need as much time and attention as I can give.” 

Merlin gritted his teeth against the insult, smiling a smile that was thin-lipped and fake as he glared fiery death at Pendragon’s skull. He turned his attention back to his friends. 

“See? A perfect darling.” That earned a snort from Elena. He stood reluctantly to his feet downing the last dregs of his tea. “I suppose I’ll be going then.”

“You will be,” Pendragon confirmed. “And these,” he pulled a pair of envelops from his back trouser pocket and offered one to Will and Elena each, “are for you.” 

There was acid in Will’s glare and only slightly less hostile petulance in Elena’s, but they took the envelopes all the same.

“Those are letters from your Warden’s offices detailing a time and place for meetings to discuss what happened yesterday. I would advise that you read them and follow their instructions exactly. You’re in enough trouble as is. Merlin.”

With that, he turned on his heel and marched back out of the room not once looking back. Merlin signed and ran his fingers through his hair. He’d really done it this time. 

“I guess I’d better get going,” he said, trying not to see the looks of confusion(Gwen) and betrayal(Will) on the faces in the room. They would understand eventually, he knew. At the very least, they would get over the shock soon enough and things could start getting back to normal again, or at least some variation of it. Shaking his head, he turned and followed in Pendragon’s wake. 

 

This was definitely a bad idea, Merlin decided as he stood beside Pendragon on the training field with the Dragon Corps staring at him in equal parts shock and confusion. Other cadets were hard at work on other parts of the field, but he could feel their curiosity; could almost taste the shift of power in the air as attention focused on him and away like currents of wind. Ever since the appearance of his Mark, he’d become particularly sensitive to subtleties in the magic around him, and being submerged in a field of magic, as he was, that meant that magic was always arounds him. It was a bit discomfiting. He felt extremely exposed and not at all like he was successfully hiding from anyone. The spot on his neck seemed to be perpetually itching like mad.

“It’s been called to my attention that between training and studies and other extracurricular activities, it is difficult for you to find time to give your equipment the proper care and maintenance that it requires,” Pendragon was droning on. “In field conditions, you are all still expected to look after yourselves, but whilst on campus, your attention could be better focused elsewhere. With this in mind, I’ve asked Merlin here to help us out a bit.” 

“What?!” Merlin couldn’t keep from exclaiming. He’d agreed to be Pendragon’s assistant, not the personal errand boy for all of his men. 

“As my new assistant, team equipment will be his responsibility in addition to helping me with various other tasks as required. If you are dissatisfied with the state you your items, feel free to take it up with Merlin yourselves. You may take what liberties you deem necessary.” Merlin simply gaped and did his best not to flush as he caught Gwaine smirking at him with interest. 

God, Gwaine! He hadn’t even thought about the fact that more time with Pendragon’s men would mean more time with Gwaine and the awkwardness between them. This whole deal was just getting better and better. 

“Officer DuLac?” Pendragon called. 

“Sir!” Lance snapped to smart attention. 

“Take the new cadet to be outfitted with a supply kit. If he’s to be joining our team, he’ll need to be properly prepared. The rest of you, fall in and prep for warm-ups. Ten laps around the field.” 

Merlin had never in his life been so summarily dismissed, but he knew that he wasn’t imagining the curl of a smirk at Pendragon’s lips, or the fact that his attention was on Merlin for a flash of a moment as Lance led him away. Merlin wanted to protest, but he knew that he couldn’t without compromising the agreement that they’d come to; an agreement that he now realized was more than a little short on details. 

“How’s your head?” Lance asked, clearly aware of Merlin’s less than excited disposition, but checking in on him all the same. Beyond the now infamous Incident, Merlin had little experience with Lance DuLac. He knew him as Gwen’s boyfriend and the prick that had let rumors interfere with his relationship, but beyond that, Lance was just another one of Pendragon’s hangers-on in his eyes. Of course the concern that he’d shown the day before hinted that there was more to the man, but Merlin was in no mood to make nice at the moment. 

“Peachy,” he replied to the question, making no attempt to hide his irritation. “Where are we going?” 

“Supplies locker,” Lance explained. He moved towards a ratty looking shed near the back of the field, gesturing for Merlin to follow. “Arthur wants me to get you outfitted, but he also will expect you to have the grand tour so that you’ll know where everything is. You’re very lucky, you know?” 

Merlin snorted at this and rolled his eyes hard enough to hurt. “Lucky? Really?” His voice was personified derision. “What brought you to that conclusion?” 

“The fact that you’re here,” was the simple reply. “You know that this has never happened before, right? All of us in the Dragons, we grew up together. Our families have been grooming us for this for ages. You don’t just get invited to work with the team. It doesn’t happen.” 

“I’m sure,” Merlin growled. “It’s my great honor to be gifted with the opportunity to clean his majesty’s socks. He’s only doing this because he’ll take any opportunity to humiliate me.” 

“That’s what you think?” 

“That’s what I know,” Merlin returned snappishly. And fine, maybe he should ease up on the attitude because it seemed like Lance was genuinely trying to be nice. It was wrong of him to take out his frustrations on an unsuspecting outsider. But he couldn’t help it. Things had been turned on their head so badly that Merlin could barely remember what the original plan had been for him coming to Camelot. 

Plus, his neck was very sweaty and itchy from the combined power of his scarf and growing Mark. 

“Just show me where I need to go,” he sighed lifting a hand to pull and material and scratch a bit. He was grateful when Lance only offered an understanding smile and led the way. 

If it weren’t for the fact that Merlin honestly had nothing better to do, he’d have been a lot more irritated about the whole situation. Training with the Dragon’s had in no way been part of the agreement he’d struck with Arthur, but somehow, after the short tour of facilities that Lance had given him, Merlin found himself dressed in fatigues and running laps with the rest of the team. Pendragon was relentless, shouting insults at Merlin at every possible opportunity until Merlin was determined to finish the run just to shut the arsehole up.

That had led to a bout of near-swooning, fought off only by the need to not embarrass himself in front of everyone on the field, but it was a near thing. He still felt like his heart was going to burst from his chest, and he was certain that his lungs were actually on fire, but that had only been the first part of warm ups. The next involved some kind of strange partner stretch done in pairs. Merlin was sure that he’d be spared that much since Pendragon was leading the exercise, making the pairs even. No such luck. 

“Get over here, Merlin,” Pendragon sneered. “This is easy enough that not even you could foul it up.” 

Easy was not what Merlin would call the stretches. His body was not meant to bend over backwards or reach anywhere close to past his toes, and he’d challenge anyone to find a male alive who could sit with his feet together and knees completely to the ground. Of course, he was proven wrong time and again as he watched each of the Dragons complete the exercises with relative ease. Percival’s knees didn’t quite reach as far as the others, and Lance seemed to be controlling a grimace as Gwaine pushed down on his legs to complete the stretch, but the lot of them put Merlin’s feeble efforts to shame.

“This is pathetic, Merlin,” Pendragon teased, putting minimal pressure on Merlin’s knees as he helped him stretch. “I knew you were scrawny but you’re reinforcing every geek stereotype I’ve ever heard of right now. I swear you’ve never used this body of yours before in your life.” 

“You’d be surprised what I can do with this body,” Merlin snarled. He’d meant it to sound like a threat, but Pendragon only laughed in his face. 

“I’m sure. You’ll stab me to death with your knobby knees.” 

“You realize that you’re insulting the person you’ve just put in charge of care and maintenance of your equipment. I’d hate for an arrow to misfire or a blade to slip at an inopportune moment.” 

“Please, Merlin. Threats don’t suit you.”

“And why not?”

“Because anyone can see that you haven’t the bollocks to see them through.”

 Merlin felt like he should have been insulted by the comment, but there was something in the way that Pendragon had said it that felt like it wasn’t meant to be an insult. There was something almost warm in his golden features in fact, but before Merlin had time to analyse it further, the stretching part of their warm-up was over. Pendragon was back on his feet ordering his men about. Sit-ups this time. Merlin was sure that the level of exercise expected of him in this was going to kill him long before any power-hungry factions beyond the walls of the school ever would. 

By the end of the day, Merlin felt certain that his body was going to rebel and take him far far away from the sadistic machinations of Arthur Pendragon. He could barely lift his arms let alone even think of attempting to care for anyone’s equipment. 

“Pack it up, lads.” Pendragon called right around sunset. “You’re free for the rest of the day. I’ll see you bright and early in the morning. Dismissed.” 

Merlin practically collapsed onto the nearest bench-like surface, clothes soaked with enough sweat to make him wonder if there was any water left in his body.

“You do this every day?” Merlin gasped as Pendragon moved towards him with a bottle of water in hand. “You’re mad! The lot of you!” 

This earned a dazzling smile from Pendragon as he handed the bottle over. Merlin gulped down the whole thing in what felt like two swallows, gasping for air when he finished. Pendragon was looking at him oddly. 

“What?” 

“This was a light workout, Merlin,” he explained, “Meant only to keep the boys limber. We’ll be back to full training exercises tomorrow morning beginning at five.” 

Merlin stared at him for a long moment. Then promptly fell backwards off the bench with a groan. “I changed my mind! Tell the world about me, I don’t care! You’re clearly trying to kill me in the slowest most painfully horrible way you can imagine!” 

“Oh, shut up you great baby!” Pendragon drawled pulling Merlin first into a sitting position again and then dragging him to his feet. 

“I will not! I’m on to you now and I promise you, there are people! Important people who will not stand for this cruel and unusual... Where are you taking me? I thought we were dismissed.” 

Merlin pulled himself out of his babbling long enough to see that he was being led towards a path he’d never taken before. 

“My team is dismissed,” Pendragon confirmed. “You are not. I still have need of you.” 

“Wait, what?!” Merlin was not happy about this. It seemed as though every time he blinked there was some other additional something that his highness had neglected to mention. There was not a great deal that Merlin could do about that, but the one weapon he had freely at his disposal was the one he never had any trouble putting to good use.

“You’re awful, you know that? Everyone acts like you fart rainbows and I don’t see why. Lance and Gwaine, Gwen’s brother. Even the large quiet bloke seem like decent people, but you. I don’t even know how you can stand to be around yourself every day. I’ve never met a person so pompous and spoilt and...oh.” 

Apparently Pendragon had been leading him to his residence, and by that Merlin meant an entire residence. The residence halls where most of the students lived were a cluster of four large buildings each holding several hundred students with a peppering of Wardens, Assistant Wardens, and sub-wardens to govern them. Past the large residence halls was a scattering of smaller houses reserved for important guests and very special residents. It was to one of these houses that Merlin was led, and if he thought the students at the school were a beacon of opulence and privilege, he was reminded again of how sheltered he’d been. 

The space was gorgeous, all polished wood and marble surfaces; white paint and tile patterns. It was like stepping into a museum more than stepping into a uni student’s flat, and if Merlin hadn’t been as exhausted as he was, he would have felt the need to straighten his clothes and fix his posture. He could almost hear his mother hissing at him for his lack of manners as he continued leaning dazedly against Pendragon’s shoulder, and just when had he started doing that? 

“Please, Merlin, don’t stop there,” that cultured voice drawled at him again. “I do believe you were in the middle of listing my virtues.” 

“Is this where you live?” Merlin found himself asking, still gawking, but shifting more of his weight onto his own feet. 

“It’s where I stay,” Pendragon confirmed, but Merlin was very aware of the difference between the question asked and answer given. “My father is the Chancellor, in case you’d forgotten. There are some benefits that come with being his off-spring.” 

Merlin took a look around the house again and shifted, uneasy in the space. He wouldn’t exactly count the super-posh space as a benefit. And if the way Arthur had spoken was any indication, he wasn’t sure the other man did either. 

“It’s...nice,” Merlin commented. That earned a roll of the eyes and hand on his shoulder, guiding him deeper into the house. Merlin was lead to the back of the house and through a sliding glass door where a raised Jacuzzi waited filling the air with the scent of chlorine. His nose wrinkled a bit at the abrasive smell, but the idea of jets of water against his aching body was too alluring to pass up. Unfortunately, that was exactly what happened. Pendragon led him past the jacuzzi to an even smaller pool further to the back. 

“Strip.” He was ordered. A towel was tossed in his face and then Pendragon walked away. Merlin stood there confused until Pendragon returned a few moments later carrying a bucket. “You can’t possibly be that dense,” he groused. “Can’t you follow a single simple instruction?” He reached a hand out to begin tugging at the the fabric around Merlin’s neck. It was at the point that Merlin realized Pendragon intended to undress him that he finally snapped out of his daze and began doing as instructed.

“If you’re planning to assault me, I’ll have you know that I’m skilled in several forms of self-defense,” he muttered, cheeks warming as he pulled his sweat-soiled shirt over his head. It was also at that point that he realized that his clothes were still in his new locker back at the training field. “Bugger,” he whispered throwing the shirt to the floor.

He paused a moment before stepping out of his trousers, checking to make sure that Pendragon wasn’t watching. 

“Oh I’m sure you are, Merlin. Judging by your performance today I’d say that you’re a master of the swooning-like-a-girl technique, as well as the pissing-yourself-in-terror maneuver. I doubt you have skill enough to save your life, let alone your virtue.” 

“You might be surprised,” Merlin bit back. He couldn’t fathom why he was allowing this pompous prat to speak to him like that. If Arthur knew who he really was... 

“See that’s the problem with you scholarly types,” Arthur continued as if Merlin hadn’t said a thing. “All books and reading and endless study. Barely ever setting foot outside to experience the world as it is.” 

“I’ll have you know that I spent a great deal of my upbringing out of doors.” 

“I’m not talking about tip-toeing through the tulips at some Druid summer camp,” Arthur scoffed, “I mean really spending time with the land. Learning to live off of it. I would think that your type would be largely focused in that area.” 

Merlin was a bit caught off guard by the jibe. Arthur was right in this. Magic was born of the earth and as one born of magic, his most natural communion should have been with the natural world, connecting to the wild magic and learning its secrets. He had never been allowed that, however. His father had promised that once he’d come of age, there would be plenty of time to experience those basic principles instead of simply learning of them from his teachers. It would be too great a risk for Merlin to allow his magic to connect with the land for extended periods of time where someone might sense him and recognize what his power meant. It was a rather unwelcome call to reality that the son of one of his greatest enemies would recognize that in him so easily. 

“Come on then. Into the water.” Whilst Merlin had been lost in thought, Arthur had returned from the other side of the room and was gently directing Merlin to the smaller pool. He took the pair of stairs leading into the water and put in a foot to test the temperature. He immediately pulled it back out. 

“You’re trying to kill me!” He definitely did _not_ shriek, thank you. “You’re planning to freeze me to death this time!” 

“Merlin, you really are a wonder,” Arthur sighed, and in a single swift move, that should probably have been more emasculating than it turned out to be, swept Merlin’s feet from under him and dropped him into the frigid water. Merlin, of course, in the least graceful display of limbs and flailing possible, attempted to climb right back out but was halted by a firm, comparatively scalding hand on his shoulder. 

“Do you want to be able to move in the morning?” Arthur asked. Shivering and more than a little confused, Merlin simply nodded. “Then sit down. Since you’re clearly never exercised a day in your life, your muscles will not take very kindly to the work you just put them through. A cold water bath will help.” 

He leaned down to retrieve the bucket he’d brought in earlier, upending it into the water. To Merlin’s great dismay, the bucket was full of ice.

“I think this is just another creative method of torture you’ve cooked up for me,” Merlin said through clattering teeth. He was greatly displeased with the state of things, but still, he remained where he was, wrapping his arms around himself in the water in an attempt of maintain at least some of his body heat. 

“Ten minutes,” Arthur said before stepping away and leaving Merlin alone to shiver and think. To say that this hadn’t been what he’d been expecting when he agreed to buy Pendragon’s silence with service would be the understatement of the century. He wasn’t really sure what was happening actually. It didn’t quite make sense. Why go through all this trouble? Why make him exercise to within an inch of his life only to look after him afterwards? If this were part of some sadistic personality quirk, wouldn’t Merlin have been left to ache and struggle through the next day? If Pendragon was just trying to torture him, then why would he bring Merlin into his home? Was he just trying to flaunt his money? Somehow that didn’t seem right, but despite his above average intellect, Merlin could not fathom what Arthur was doing. 

He’d yet to reach a conclusion a few minutes later when Arthur appeared with a couple of water bottles in hand. He set the water on a small table that was near the jacuzzi, then walked towards Merlin again. 

“I see you’ve yet to freeze to death,” he commented.

“No thanks to you.” There was no heat behind the words. Even if the water wasn’t slowly leeching anything associated with heat from his body, he didn’t feel the need to lash out. His limbs were cold, but the ache of the hours spent using ill-prepared muscles was nothing more than a barely there buzz beyond the cold. He wouldn’t say that the water was nice, but he had adjusted to it, and didn’t feel quite like he was going to shiver apart anymore. 

“Come on then,” Arthur said, brusquely stepping back over to Merlin’s tub. “Out you get.” 

Merlin accepted the assistance getting out, did not protest as he was led to the hot tub and directed to climb inside, and if Pendragon’s hands lingered on his skin a bit longer than was strictly necessary, Merlin decided that it wasn’t his place to call attention to it. He had enough on his mind without adding that bit of buggery to the mix. The water was far from warm, but it was a sight better than the ice bath. He settled onto the submerged seat, moaning his relief. 

“You’re clearly very easy to please,” Arthur said from somewhere to his right. There was something of a bite to the comment; something that was trying to be insulting but wasn’t quite making the cut. 

He’d stepped away from the tub again, fiddling with something on the wall of the room before stepping back over, water bottle in hand, stripped down to a formfitting pair of swim trunks. Merlin did not stare. His eyes did not study the warm skin pulled over firm muscle; had no appreciation at all for the perfectly cut silhouette Arthur made as he climbed up and into the water. And when the jets activated and the water began to warm, it was the slowly increasing heat that brought color to Merlin’s chest and neck and cheeks. None of his physical responses had anything to do with Arthur Pendragon. At all. He was suddenly very happy that he was too tired for certain other physical responses to become a problem. 

“I’m a bit of a simple kind of lad, aren’t I?” Merlin answered after redirecting his eyes. 

“Simple,” Arthur agreed. Merlin tried to ignore the weight of Pendragon’s eyes that had landed on him, studying. “Yes. That is exactly the word I would use for you.” He lowered himself into the water and settled opposite Merlin in the tub. His features were hard, face a mask that Merlin couldn’t quite see through. It looked for all the world as if everything that was happening was intensely distasteful to Arthur. 

“Why are you doing this?” Merlin asked, unable to understand and too tired to try to figure it out. 

Arthur offered only a long, unreadable stare, then closed his eyes and settled back into the tub. 

“Because you’re an idiot,” he said. 

“That doesn’t even make any sense.” 

“Merlin,” Arthur cracked an eye open to level a look at Merlin that shouldn’t have been as condescending as it was, considering that it was only half a glare. “Shut up.” 

Afterwards, there was another bottle of water, fluffy towels, and military greens for Merlin to change into. Oddly, they were in Merlin’s size. They went to the canteen, together, where people stared and Arthur piled food onto Merlin’s plate then glared at him until he ate it all. In the end they parted ways, Merlin returning to his residence and Arthur to his, leaving Merlin completely unsettled and vaguely fearing that the end of the world was nigh. 

Arthur never did answer his question.


	9. Chapter 9

Merlin couldn’t breathe. His father’s voice echoed through his thoughts, filling his mind whilst foreign power slithered over his bones and made his chest _burn._

 _This is madness, Nimueh._ His father. _You’re only poisoning yourself along with those who follow your path. You’re betraying your own kind and giving our enemies more fuel to feed the fires of their hatred. You’ll destroy us all._

_Please, Balinor. Spare me the theatrics. Everything that I do, I do to save us, as well you know. This would all be so much easier with your cooperation._

_You know my answer. It hasn’t changed._

_And your know mine. You are stubborn, and you are powerful, but you only grow weaker as I and my sister grow stronger. Soon, you won’t have the strength to resist me. Your power will be mine, and then..._  

He woke to the sound of pounding on his door, the dream slipping from him, shoved aside by confusion. Pounding? Door? Something was off here. But no, he wasn’t imagining it. He looked across the room from where he’d been sleeping on the floor to find that there was indeed a door separating him from the hallway. It was such a foreign sight that all he could do was stare at it for extended seconds.

Of course, a moment later, the whole purpose of having a door was defeated when the object of his confusion swung open and revealed a rather dashing looking Gwaine Roderick who stepped inside and closed the door ( _door!)_ behind himself.

“Out of bed lazy bones. The princess is in rare form this morning,” he said, voice entirely too smooth and appealing for the hour. What time was it anyway?

Merlin looked to the small alarm clock he’d managed to hide in his bedding and saw that it was barely six in the morning. Gwaine happily smacked the clock from his hand and began dragging Merlin to his feet.

“What are you doing?” Merlin’s voice was not nearly as smooth or awake as Gwaine’s had been and he was fairly sure that his brain was not in an appropriate enough state of wakefulness to properly process anything that was happening around him. And worse, there was a heaviness in his chest, like he’d swallowed something too dense to be swallowed, and his body was attempting to reject it. His muscles were tense, the magic in his blood agitated as if there were a threat near, but try as he did, he couldn’t place the source of the feeling. He only knew that there was something wrong. Very wrong.

“It’s time for morning drills,” Gwaine was saying. “Most of the other cadets only do it a couple times a week, but Arthur likes for us to be prepared.” 

“Prepared for what?”

“Who knows?” Gwaine was eyeing him speculatively, left brow raised and arms crossed over the olive shirt he was wearing. “So what’s he got on you?” The question shouldn’t have been unexpected, but Merlin was feeling very off-centered at the moment and his mind wasn’t working fast enough for anything close to anticipation.

“What? Uh...I-I don’t know what you mean.” The lie was blatant to his own ears, and he knew that Gwaine was no fool. He could have kicked himself for letting himself slip so badly so quickly and took a breath in an attempt to rally himself.

“Right,” Gwaine began, not even acknowledging the attempt. “So pretending that you’re not bollocks at keeping mum, which you are, and that Arthur’s a complete idiot, which he’s not, there are a few other obvious items that even the dullest of us can see. First off, you’re about as likely to be interested in a career of military service as Percy would be of making his way as a pastry chef; not impossible, but pretty hard to swallow. Second, until a day ago Arthur’s primary mission was to get you out of his school as quickly as possible, though the lads and I know he would have been in tears as soon as it happened. He was having far too much fun. Third, no one gets into the Dragons. He doesn’t let anyone else get this close. So, either Arthur’s gone daft and decided that you’re somehow perfect for the team for no reason at all, or he knows something about you that he’s not sharing. I’m banking on option two.”

Merlin swallowed thickly, defenses rising in the face of such a direct confrontation. He felt anger waking, and with it, all the hurt feelings from weeks before when Gwaine had been ignoring him.

“What’s it to you anyway?” he growled. “You’ve barely said two words to me since all of this began. Quick snog in the showers and then I might as well not exist, yeah? But suddenly Arthur shows interest, and here you are!”

“That’s not what this is about Merlin!” Gwaine snapped back. “You could be the greatest lay on the planet and it wouldn’t earn you his greens. Something is up, and I want to know what!”

“Greens?” Merlin asked in confusion. “What do you...?” His mind flashed back to the previous night; the clothes that Arthur had shoved at him, the odd behaviour. He looked down at the shirt in his hands. The small, stenciled “D.Corps” in black on the sleeve, and had to take a moment to recalibrate.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he tried.

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Gwaine countered.

Merlin did not know what to make of this new information. Had his read of Pendragon been wrong? Was he missing something vital, or was it really possible that Arthur Pendragon was attempting to bring him into his fold despite the fact that Merlin was now a known sorcerer and Pendragon’s father was one of the greatest living enemies to sorcerers?

No. Arthur was doing this to keep him close, that was all. Merlin still didn’t understand what the end game of all of this could be, but the least likely possibility was that Pendragon was actually attempting to recruit him. More likely, he was just waiting for the best opportunity to exploit Merlin’s power, though there had been no real discussion of his magic since that first night. Merlin didn’t know what to think, and the nagging pressure in his chest was not helping.

He gusted out a breath attempting to reign in his irritation. “Look, you’re right, ok?” he said finally. “He does have something on me, but it’s my business and I’d rather not talk about it. So if it’s the same to you, I thought we had somewhere to be.”

Merlin turned to his door and had the novel experience of reaching for the handle to open it when Gwaine’s hand came from behind him, slamming the door shut again. His body was close, warm and firm behind him, smelling of soap and skin and washed out sweat. Merlin’s body took that moment to remind him of how difficult it had been for all those weeks to find a private spot to wank when he’d been without a door. Unbidden, flashes of memory from the night before rushed at him; Arthur’s lingering touch on his skin, all of those firm sculpted muscles, the lingering heated gazes.

“It’s not too late to get out, Merlin.” Gwaine said, breath ghosting over his ear and making him _ache._ He was trapped between Gwaine’s body and the door, the other man pressing more tightly behind him as he continued speaking. _“_ Things are getting ugly out there.” He ground his hips just so against Merlin’s arse, enough for Merlin to feel the half hard state of his cock. It sent Merlin’s own member ever closer to full attention and it was all that he could do to not grind himself, gasping, into the door, or turn and take advantage of the unspoken offer. 

“The world he’s bringing you into? It’s dangerous. For all of us.” Gwaine inhaled deeply, nuzzling his nose against Merlin’s neck making him forget that he was supposed to be upset. Making him shiver. “People will get hurt. People will die. You don’t want to be part of it.”

It was a struggle. Gwaine was trying to distract him, and was doing an excellent job of it. But even the promise of the no doubt mind-blowing orgasm Gwaine was offering with his body if not his words wouldn’t be enough to change Merlin’s mind. He inhaled. Exhaled. Steeled his nerves for a moment and then turned. Gwaine’s eyes were _right there,_ his mouth his face, all closer than Merlin had ever seen them. Under different circumstances, he would have taken the time to admire the little things; the shape of his lips and the way his brows could completely transform his face. He wished he could let it all go, lean in those last inches and not be himself for just a little while. But now was not the time for that. Gwaine was trying again to warn him away, trying to keep him safe but such a thing was not possible. 

“I already am,” he told him, knowing somehow that he could trust Gwaine with at least that much. “I’ve been arse-deep since he day I was born.” 

He didn’t pause to see Gwaine’s reaction, just pushed away and walked out of the room. 

Morning training was no less grueling than it had been the day before, but Merlin threw himself into it, grateful for the distraction, because he knew, he _knew_ that there was something wrong. He just couldn’t figure out what. It nagged at him through the morning, forced him to push his body harder despite the fact that he was already giving all that he could. 

Merlin noticed that his body did not hurt nearly as much as he’d anticipated. His muscles were sore, yes, but it was a pleasant sort of ache. The kind you got after a day of honest but hard work. Part of him hadn’t believed that the ice bath was really going to help, but it looked like Pendragon had proven him wrong again. Merlin’s head was going to explode trying to figure out all the contradictions Arthur Pendragon was beginning to represent for him. 

He ended the set sweating and gasping for breath, but sufficiently distracted from whatever it was that had him so on edge. Pendragon gave him one look and shook his head, leaving Merlin where he was as the rest of the team headed for the showers so that they could properly start their days. 

“Don’t mind me,” Merlin muttered into the ground, struggling to push himself back up. “I’ll be fine.” 

“Sure you will. The question’s how long that’ll last, isn’t it?” 

Merlin startled. He hadn’t realized that there was someone else there, but the voice was unmistakable, and as he managed to flail his way into an almost upright position, he made eye contact with a smirking Will. To say the least, Will was the last person he expected to find on the OTC training field at this hour of the morning. 

“Will! What are you doing here?” 

Will gave a small snort before sitting down on one of the benches bordering the training grounds. 

“Figured I should come say goodbye before shipping out.” 

That got Merlin’s attention. He was on his feet and beside Will in an instant. “They’ve expelled you?!” He knew that what Will had done was dumb and dangerous, but he didn’t think... 

“Good as,” Will told him. “Revoked my scholarship. For whatever reason, they’re leaving the details of it off of my record, but I was given twenty-four hours to clear out. My mum’s on her way, and I figured that you’d be too busy being his majesty's whipping boy to make it over before this afternoon’s lecture. By then I’ll be half-way home. 

“Home?” 

“Term’s half over. Doesn’t make sense to try to transfer now. I’ll look into other places. My marks are good enough that it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“But...” Merlin found that it was difficult to speak. There was something in his throat blocking the words, and he didn’t know what to say even if he could manage to get them out. 

Will sighed, but gave a rueful smile as he did. “Looks like Pendragon gets his way again. Another scholarship student who didn’t last the term thanks to him.” He locked eyes with Merlin before he continued. “But at least things were interesting, this round. We gave as good as we got, yeah?”

Merlin nodded. “Yeah. Mostly thanks to you. I don’t think the girls would have lasted half as long at this if you hadn’t come on board.” 

Will actually laughed at that. “Believe that if you want,” he said, “but you and I both know that anyone who gets on their bad side is just begging for trouble.” 

Merlin had caught his breath by now, but the reality of the situation had still not quite set in. Will was leaving. _Leaving._ His wingman. Partner-in-crime. The only other person who made since in this crazy word of money and manipulation. It had only been a few short weeks, but just knowing that he had someone there to watch his back, who understood at least some of where he was coming from, had created a bond between them unlike anything he had with anyone else on campus. The girls were nice, yeah, but even they fell into the same patterns that most everyone at Camelot fell into. It wasn’t because they were intentionally flaunting their money, but there was a certain way of life that was natural to them that people like Will and Merlin would never really understand. It felt like he was being abandoned to face a world gone mad alone. That seemed to be becoming more and more true with every passing day. 

Will’s shitty little mobile buzzed and he fished it from his pocket, frowning as he looked at the screen. “That’s my ride,” he said standing. “She’ll be here in ten.” 

“You need help loading up?”

Will eyed him, doubt very clear in his expression. “You can barely hold yourself up, Merlin. And you smell like you were napping in the bin.”

“Then I’ll wash up,” Merlin insisted. “Go meet your mum and--” 

“No, really.” Will cut him off. He ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath. “My mum’s in a right state over what’s happened. Under different circumstances, you’d be the first person I’d want her to meet,” Merlin’s heart warmed at the unexpected sentiment, “but as things are...” He breathed another sigh and shifted his stance. “I’ll keep in touch, yeah? I’ve got your email and once you step into the modern era and get yourself a mobile, I’ll have that too.” 

Merlin just watched him, not sure what he should do. He couldn’t believe that this was the last time he’d ever be seeing Will at Camelot. It just didn’t seem right. 

“It’s not forever, mate.” Will smacked his arm playfully. “The nation’s not that big, and we neither of us will be in uni forever. Stop looking like someone killed your puppy. Just look out for yourself. Pendragon’s a prick and I wouldn’t trust him any further than you could throw him, and seeing how he’s got at least two stone on you, that wouldn’t be very far. He’s keeping you close for a reason, and somehow, I get the feeling that me clearing out of here isn’t as bad a thing as it might seem.” 

Merlin had nothing to say to that, still didn’t know how he was supposed to respond to the situation as a whole. 

“Well,” Will shifted on his feet again, this time turning to face Merlin in full. “I guess this is it.” He reach a hand out to Merlin to shake. Merlin took the hand, but continued forward and pulled Will into a tight embrace. Maybe it had something to do with the strange mood that had taken him that morning, maybe he was just getting too paranoid, but he just couldn’t trust that this wasn’t goodbye forever. How could Will know that when Merlin wasn’t even sure he’d make it to his next birthday. 

Will stiffened in his arms for a surprised moment, but gave in enough to give him two firm pats on his back before pulling away. “You really are a bit of a girl, aren’t you Merlin?” 

“Say that again and I’ll show you just how much of a girl,” Merlin said raising a fist. Will laughed and hurried out of the way, jogging across the lawn towards his residence. Merlin pretended to give chase for a couple of steps, but stopped and watched Will walk away. Will threw one final grin over his shoulder, raised his hand in parting, and then he was gone. 

A tiny, tiny fracture formed in Merlin’s world. 

“Merlin!” He started at the sound of his name, whirling around to locate its source. Arthur was standing there in the morning light, all firm muscles and damp hair, glowing like the god Merlin had compared him to on that first day; the day he’d met Will, the day this all began. 

“Stop mooning like a princess,” Pendragon snapped, pulling Merlin from his thoughts. “This gear isn’t going to sort itself!” 

It was then that Merlin realized that the rest of the team had left their packs in a messy pile on the side of the field before they’d left to hit the showers. “What do you expect me to do with all of _that_?!” 

Pendragon gave that smug smile that Merlin hated, crossing his arms over his chest. Merlin did not watch a drop of water trace a path down the prat’s neck into the collar of his shirt, and Merlin _most_ _definitely_ did not want to follow that path with his tongue. “Make yourself useful by putting it away, obviously. The lads and I will be meeting with Major DeMaris for the next hour. I expect the teams gear to be stored and ready for next deployment by the time we’re done.” 

“And how am I supposed to know where everything is supposed to go?! It’s not like I’m even a part of your stupid team! I don’t even know what kind of deployment you’re talking about!”

“Well then, _Mer_ lin,” Pendragon’s smile transitioned from smug to outright sinister. “I suppose you’ll just have to figure it out. We’ll find out if you actually have enough brains rattling about that thick skull of yours to deserve a scholarship.” 

Merlin could do nothing but fume as Pendragon turned on his heels and walked with long, purposeful strides to the UOTC Offices at the head of the training field. It was the place where cadets went to meet before weekend excursions or for classroom training, but it also had a number of conference rooms for briefings and closed meetings. 

Merlin entertained the option of just leaving the packs where they were. What would Pendragon really do if he left the mess for the team to clean up themselves? _Report you to his father, for one,_ he thought, but even as the answer crossed his mind, he didn’t know if he really believed it. Pendragon wouldn’t be that petty would he? Considering how little Merlin really understood of the situation, he didn’t think it wise to risk it. He heaved a sigh that felt like it came from the soul of the earth itself, and began collecting things. 

Merlin was...not happy. Sorting the packs had been a nightmare, but he’d managed thanks to a conveniently located locker with gear in it that had already been stowed properly that he could use as a guide, and a few very small barely noticeable spells to help expedite the process a bit. He’d finished within his hour deadline, but just barely, and then there was Pendragon, lording over him, complaining about his smell, demanding that he shower and waiting until he was done so that he could drag Merlin off to the canteen for breakfast. 

He’d been allowed a short reprieve after, during which he hurried to Gaius’ office to grab his texts and prepare for his twelve o’clock lecture, but of course, Pendragon had demanded Merlin meet him in the quad before class where he proceeded to dump all of his books and notes into Merlin’s arms in front of a crowd of laughing students, then strode towards their lecture hall, beckoning Merlin to follow like a trained dog. 

The entire experience was humiliating. And now, to make matters worse, Merlin had to sit at the front of the room, directly next to Pendragon taking notes for both of them while the prat made eyes at every pretty piece of flesh in the vicinity and played with his phone. It meant that Merlin actually had to pay attention to what the lecturer was saying so that Arthur would be able to follow the lesson later, since he was clearly not paying attention. And it wasn’t as if the subject was easy. 

Arcane Theory as it was taught at Camelot, left a lot to be desired. Some of the things old Dr. Monmouth was spouting were clearly a load of bollocks that he was being fed from somewhere; some of it propaganda against sorcerers, some of it wild theories about replicating or synthesizing magic. About the only sound logic the course had offered so far was behind calculating the active potential of spellwork through Power Theory. It was one of the things that Merlin had always understood before he’d ever had numbers or formulas to explain it, and he knew that for the non-magical community, just getting one’s head around the backwards physics of magic was enough to cause a mental breakdown. 

This course, and others like it were one of the things that set Camelot apart from other universities. In a world where magic was essential to most day-to-day functions, Arcanology was not an unusual topic of study. However, most Arcanological studies were completed by the magical community. Etic-Arcanology, or the study of magic by those without magic, was far less common. There were few mundanes that even tried to apply any kind of logic to magic, and none that could claim successful reproduction of it. Merlin would wait until he’d seen proof with his own eyes before believing such nonsense, but he also wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to learn what Camelot really knew about magic. It was the kind of knowledge that he was aware would be useful in days to come; the kind of insider information that might make all the difference when Uther Pendragon finally made his move.

Which made Merlin wonder. Why was Arthur letting him? Merlin may not particularly enjoy the experiences that he’d had so far, but one thing he’d learned for certain in the past couple of months was that Arthur Pendragon was a clever man. The things he did were intentional, and anyone who couldn’t see that was blind. So why would he happily let Merlin sit there, absorbing and taking copious notes on all the things that Arthur’s father probably didn’t want magic users to know? And why did Arthur himself seem so disinterested?

It was a thought that bothered Merlin for the rest of the lecture and beyond. After they’d left the room and Pendragon had piled his things onto Merlin again, his mind was still buzzing with possibilities. Maybe it was because Pendragon was already an expert in the field. Maybe he didn’t need to pay attention because he knew all that was needed to know in the realm of Arcane Theory. Maybe...maybe that was why he seemed so unaffected by Merlin’s magic. Because he already knew enough about the logic of magic that even someone as powerful as Merlin didn’t pose a threat. Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Maybe Arthur Pendragon was a bigger threat than Merlin had ever imagined.

Of course, all of these maybes were proven ludicrous when Merlin had a fit of Merlinism, tripped, fell and scattered all of Pendragon’s things across the ground on the way back to his residence. Papers flew everywhere. Notes, assignments, quizzes and tests. All for Arcane Theory. All peppered in red. As Merlin fell over himself apologising and attempting to collect the papers before they were too throughly destroyed, he couldn’t help but notice something a bit peculiar and altogether distressing about the pages in his hands. He stared at the stack he’d collected. Flipped through the papers just to be sure. 

“You haven’t passed a single one of these!” he blurted, brain-mouth filter still clearly out of order.

The assignments were snatched from his hand, and Merlin was roughly shoved aside as Arthur took over the clean up process. 

“Thank you, Merlin, for the academic update,” he hissed, crushing the pages into his notebook without much care for neatness, “but I didn’t ask for your observations and I don’t want them!” 

With that, Arthur stormed off, leaving Merlin sitting on the path, watching his retreating back. There was tension in his every move, but it wasn’t anger. Not really. It was shame. Merlin had finally discovered the one thing Arthur Pendragon was less than perfect at, and Arthur was clearly not happy about it. Rather than feeling any sense of smug satisfaction, however, Merlin was surprised to find himself having a very different response to the discovery. He couldn’t quite name what it was, but the overall feeling was of something warm and soft. Human. That’s what it was. Merlin’s view of Arthur had been shifting for some time, but this minor glimpse of vulnerability really brought home the fact that Arthur was a person with feelings and concerns and struggles just like the rest of them. 

It also gave Merlin an idea.

The day was young. He had things to do, but plenty of time to do them, and this plan was something new but somehow also something important. He didn’t know where the thought came from, or why he felt it was important enough to pursue, but if there was one thing his parents had taught him, it was to trust his instincts and they had yet to lead him astray. He gathered his things from the ground where they’d fallen and turned to walk back to his room. This was a new game he and Arthur were playing. The first move had been made, Arthur taking control as Merlin had learned was his tendency. It was time for Merlin to retaliate and even the playing field one more time.

 


	10. Chapter 10

It was strange, having time to himself, space to himself. He had actually grown accustomed to his room being a place without privacy. Will and Gwen’s rooms had become surrogate homes for him, but now with Will gone and his door firmly back in place, Merlin didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

 “Arthur.” He reminded himself. Dumped his books on his bed, having a double-take as there was actually a bed there for him to dump them onto, and then collecting his notebook. He pulled his scarf aside, checking his neck in the mirror to see the progress of his Mark. The lines were taking their time in forming. He still couldn’t make out what symbol was being made, but the blurry patch was resolving itself into a solid circle at the center. That was good. Circles meant completion; fulfillment. It was a symbol of power. That part came as no shock to Merlin, but understanding at least that much of the seal that would represent his power had a calming effect. He smiled at his reflection, rubbing at the area that seemed to be perpetually several degrees hotter than the rest of his body, and wrapped the scarf back around it, hiding it from view.

In the time since that morning when his door had reappeared, he’d already managed to get most of his things back from Gwen and back into his room. He went to his small collection of personal items, shifted through his books and picked out one that was old and worn and well-loved. It was one of the first gifts that he’d ever received from his father and one of the possessions he loved best. Now it was going to serve its purpose again in ways that he knew would make his father’s eyes cross if he ever found out.

 “I’ll just make sure not to tell him once we get him back,” Merlin murmured to himself, grabbing a shoulder bag and carefully placing the book in it. A chill shivered down his spine at the thought of his father’s continued captivity, but he forced it from his mind. He had to wait. The Catha had everything well in hand.

He collected his notebook from class and added it to his satchel, but didn’t bother with the hilarious work of fiction that was their text book. Instead he grabbed one more book -- a gift from Gaius from his thirteenth birthday when his power first began to spike -- and turned back to the door. He’d head to the canteen first to grab a bite, and then he’d go back to Arthur’s room. There was no doubt that Arthur would be there. Merlin had learned a great deal about Arthur Pendragon in their time as rivals, not the least of which being that Arthur was a bit of a loner despite his apparent popularity. He was a very private person.

That wasn’t quite right, though. It wasn’t so much that he was private as it was that he didn’t really interact socially with the other students. He flaunted himself about the campus, a king surveying his kingdom, lording over his people, but he was always there. Merlin never heard anything about Arthur having wild adventures off campus, never heard about him wreaking havoc with his team in the local pubs. Arthur was _always_ around. He stayed on campus as much as Merlin did, but obviously, without the same excuse.

That was another one of the little mysteries that had built themselves around the Prince of Camelot. He was an ass who took care of Merlin after forcing him to push his body too hard. He had people falling over themselves to impress him but kept them all at arm’s length. He was cruel, but human, and the more questions that conjured themselves in Merlin’s mind, the more he wanted to find the answers to them. The more he wanted to know who Arthur really was.

Merlin tried to shrug off the thoughts as he pulled his door open.

 “Well you don’t seem very broken up over just losing your best mate.”

Merlin’s eyes snapped up at the familiar voice. Elena was standing just outside his door, arms crossed, Mithian a step behind her looking a bit cross herself.

 “Ladies! Hello!” he smiled. “What can I do for you?”

 “I’m sure you’ve done enough,” Mithian hissed. “We heard about Arthur Pendragon’s little display with you in the quad earlier. Are you still claiming that this is something you’ve agreed to? Mockery and humiliation?”

 “It’s not what you’re thinking--”

 “Well I’m thinking that he’s either buggered your brains out, or our Merlin’s been body snatched,” Elena offered. Merlin waited for the snort of laughter, the pull of a smirk at her lips to show that she was joking, but neither came. Merlin gave a little delayed chock of shock at the implications.

 “You can’t possibly think--”

 “Oh I can do a lot more than think,” Elena interrupted. “I’ve seen the way you look at him, Merlin. I know you’ve got eyes for Gwaine too, but Arthur. There’s something else going on between you two. Is that it, then? Are you sleeping with the enemy? Is that why you’re playing this game with him now? Some kind of kinky Dom/sub roleplay that you’re putting on display for everyone? Does it help you get your rocks off?”

 “Elena!” Merlin could feel his face heating, his ears already practically on fire. “Please tell me you don’t really believe--”

 “We don’t know what to believe, Merlin.” It was Mithian who cut him off this time. Elena still looked livid, but it was plain to see the hurt and confusion in both of their eyes. “What Will and Elena did was dumb, yes, but it doesn’t explain you cutting us out of your life. It doesn’t explain you suddenly siding with Arthur when just days ago you were convinced he was evil itself. We just want to understand what’s going on with you.”

Merlin could only stare at them. It was like he’d been struck dumb, the realization hitting home very suddenly. Everything had changed for him so drastically and so quickly, he didn’t even realize that for everyone else, life was much the same. Except for Merlin who was now, with no real explanation, sided with their enemy.

 “It’s just...” he didn’t know what to tell them. “It’s complicated, ok? There’s a lot going on right now, and I can’t explain it.” The Mark on his neck was burning and he shifted a hand up to rub at it in an attempt to ease the discomfort. “Arthur’s helping me out with something, and I’m helping him out in exchange. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

Neither of his friends looked satisfied, but he could see that they were going to back down. Mithian was the first to step forward and offer him a hug.

 “We’ll trust you for now. But don’t think we’re dropping this for good. We’re going to get real answers out of you. And you’d better come around more often than you have been the past few days or I’m going hunting for Pendragon myself.”

Elena stepped forward next, pulling him down to squish his head against her bosom. “And if you two aren’t fucking yet, I expect to hear from you right away the moment you are.” Merlin sputtered at this. “Don’t go giving me those shocked eyes. I told you, it’s clear somethings going on with you both. And I’ve seen the way he’s been looking at you too, Merlin.”

Merlin cleared his throat and scrabbled quickly for a change of topic. “I was just about to head over to the canteen for a bite. Would you like to join me?”

That earned him a bright smile from Mithian. “That’s more like you already,” she said before linking her arm through his. Elena just gave him a knowing look then led the way.

It was well into the afternoon by the time Merlin made his way to Arthur’s. He had a lot to think about, not the least of which being Elena’s comments from earlier. If he was honest with himself, he couldn’t deny the attraction that he felt for Arthur. It had been there from the beginning, blocked for obvious reasons, but with all that was happening and the more he’d been able to see of Arthur, the harder it was to ignore the draw. It was like the pull of the Great Dragon, only different in that he couldn’t define or properly understand what it was about Arthur that called to him. It was something he’d rather just not think about.

He knocked on Arthur’s door and waited. It was a grey day outside, threatening rain, and Merlin shivered a little in his jacked as he stood on the stoop outside the house. The land around Camelot still had plenty of magic in it, but the weather couldn’t be helped. He had vague memories of his younger years when weather regulators could still keep the skies blue for most of the year, but that had been a long time ago. Weather Working was one of the many lost skills in a world where magic was fading. 

When the door swung open, it was to a scowling, topless Arthur wearing a towel around his neck and a pair of loose fitting sweats. Heat very promptly rushed through Merlin’s blood chasing the chill of the air away. In light of recent discussions, it was hard not to be distracted by all of that skin.

His hair was wet and there were beads of water dotting his skin. Arthur had obviously just come out of the shower, his skin flushed from the lingering heat. Merlin’s eyes roamed over the defined muscles of his chest, the spread of dark hair there. The dusky pink of nipples made his throat go dry, and he swallowed convulsively as he did his best to tear his eyes away to focus on Arthur’s face. He didn’t make it past the full, lush red of his frowning mouth. His interlude with Gwaine that morning seemed suddenly very near, and his body _wanted_. Wanted very much.

 “I thought I dismissed you for the day,” Arthur sniped, and that was enough to help Merlin focus again on the purpose of his visit.

 “Uh, yes,” he cleared his throat. “I mean, no. You stormed off in a huff, but you never dismissed me.” Merlin paused, going over what he’d just said in his mind and back pedaled. “And either way, it’s a free campus. I can go where I please, even if it is to a visit self-involved prat with no manners or sense of propriety.”

That seemed to catch Arthur off guard. “No manners?!” Of all the things for Arthur to get caught up on, manners was what he took offense to. Merlin couldn’t help but smile at that.

 “That’s right. Manners. The sky is about to open up out here and you’re just standing there, half-starkers, gaping while I shiver in the cold.” He feigned a shiver for dramatic effect, which earned him a roll of the eyes and Arthur’s warm hand reaching out to grab his arm and pull him into the house.

 “I don’t know why I put up with your insolence, Merlin.” Merlin definitely did not miss the note of fondness mixed in with the exasperation, and that solidified his resolve to go through with his plans. He could feel, somewhere deep inside, that this was important.

Arthur offered him a seat, took his jacket then stepped from the room. A few minutes later he returned wearing a large, comfy looking jumper and carrying a tray with tea and biscuits. He poured a cup for Merlin, like a perfect gentleman, then poured a cup for himself, settling into the plush armchair to Merlin’s left.

 “Are my manners acceptable, now, my lord?” Arthur teased. Merlin did his best Arthur impersonation, lifting the cup and sneering down his nose at it.

 “I suppose this will do,” he said, and was delighted when he earned a deep chuckle from Arthur for his trouble. It was instantly one of Merlin’s favorite sounds.

 “So really, Merlin,” Arthur began, “why are you here. I’m sure there are other things you could be doing to occupy your time.”

 “There are,” Merlin agreed, “but there was something I wanted to share with you.” He paused, taken by a sudden fit of anxiety. There was no way for Arthur to understand that what he wanted to share was something precious; sacred. It wasn’t secret, per se, but it wasn’t something to be taught or spoken of lightly.

 “It’s something important,” he added, doing his best to put the full gravity of the moment into his words. Arthur caught on quickly and sat up at attention, giving his focus to Merlin entirely. That alone assured Merlin that he was doing the right thing.

He open his satchel and pulled out the books that he’d selected to show to Arthur. The book of magic that his father had given him when he was just a boy, and the book of control Gaius had given him later. They were small volumes, and at first glance one would think that they were nothing more than fairy stories or children’s books. What they contained, however, was the very foundations of the practice and mastery of magic. The academics in the non-magical community had been working for years attempting to understand. They tried to treat magic like science; apply the same rules. But that was the fundamental flaw of most Arcane theorists. Magic followed different rules, different laws. They were just as absolute, but they didn’t fall into the realm of traditional academia, and for that reason, most Arcane Theory was incomplete.

 “I’m sorry I looked at your papers earlier,” Merlin began, figuring that an apology would be a good starting point. “But I did notice that you were having a difficult time of it, and I was thinking...” He looked around the room wondering at its security. He wanted to speak plainly, but he also needed to be sure that he wouldn’t be putting himself or Arthur at risk.

 “Is it safe to speak here?” He asked. He could see that Arthur understood the question and in understanding that, he could deduce the nature of the conversation they were about to have. A topic that had been left up in the air since the evens of Saturday.

 “This space is secure,” Arthur told him. Merlin gusted out a sigh.

 “Ok, look,” he began, “I know that Uther is up to something, and I know that you have an idea of what it is. I know that the other Dragons know that something big is coming, and I know that it’s not something that any of you are excited about being a part of. I know that we’re approaching a time of war. And I know that the average person isn’t going to know anything about it.”

Arthur was frozen in his seat, eyes locked onto the depths of his teacup where it rested in his hands, hovering just under his nose.

 “I know that you know something of magic. I know that you have ways to protect against it.” He paused at this point, taking a deep breath before continuing, because this next part, he only knew based on instincts and belief and what he’d seen of Arthur so far. “I also know that you don’t want this, Arthur. I know that you try to do what’s right, even if you can be an ass about how you do it. I know that you have a lot of pride, but that you take no pleasure in really hurting people.

 “And knowing all of this, I can guess at what you’ll be doing when everything comes to a head and all hell breaks loose. I know that you could have turned me in to your father when you found out about me, but you didn’t. And while I don’t know or understand all of your reasons for doing that, I think at least one of them has something to do with protecting me. I’m grateful for that, Arthur. Even though you’re making my life miserable,” he gave a small laugh, “I’m grateful to still be alive and relatively safe.”

The whole time he’d been speaking, his eyes had been focused on his own cup fiddling with it as he sought out the right words. He took his eyes from the cup now and focused on Arthur, who had also forsaken his tea in favor of studying Merlin.

 “I sense an ally in you. Heaven knows why, but I want to share something with you. You’ve trusted me with a bit of your world, now I want to show you a bit of mine.”

He lifted the two books and extended them across the gap between their chairs. Arthur stared at them for a moment before putting his tea down and then reaching out to accept them.

 “Merlin, these books are for children,” Arthur said, not with disdain. Simply stating an observation.

 “They are,” Merlin agreed, “but that’s only because the basic principals of magic are taught to us practically from birth. Some of the most important lessons we learn are the ones taught to us as children.”

Arthur took in the information, slowly flipping through the page of the first book before stacking the second on top and flipping through those pages as well. His expression was unreadable. After a long moment of silence, he closed the second book then looked to Merlin.

 “Alright,” he said levelly. “Out with it, then. Share.”

The feeling that blossomed in Merlin’s chest at those words was unlike anything he’d ever felt. It wasn’t until that moment that he even realised, but this was a part of himself that he’d never really shared with anyone else. Yes, there was his family, and the small circle of teachers and protectors he’d grown up with, but Arthur was different. He didn’t understand the rites and rituals of the Old Religion. He didn’t know who Merlin really was. Merlin had chosen him, and Arthur could have just as easily turned him away. But he hadn’t. That wasn’t what was going to happen, here, and the weight of the moment -- the portent and auspice of it -- were so thick within Merlin’s sense of _other_ that he was nearly suffocating on it.

He made no signs of any of the feelings that were roiling inside of him, instead choosing to smile thinly and nod.

 “All right,” he began, and, taking the first book from Arthur’s hands, he shared.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Merlin found himself in Arthur’s rooms in most of his free time in the days that followed. The time that he’d once spent with Will or Gwen or Gaius had somehow all fallen to Arthur, but Merlin found that he didn’t mind at all. He ran drills with the team and surprised himself in how well he adapted to the physical work, but he could not deny the pleasure he took in seeing and feeling the results of his efforts. His body was stronger, muscle developing where there had only been pale thinness before, and with the physical strength came a confidence that he’d never known before.

He was far from the thick muscled arms of some of the other Dragons, but he was gaining definition and learning what his body was capable of outside of the magic. That allowed him to gain a new sense of self that slowly braided itself into the knowledge he’d gained from the rest of his life. He could all but feel the smug satisfaction radiating from Arthur every time he finished a drill without completely collapsing as he had in the beginning, and got the sneaking suspicious that this had been Arthur’s plan all along.

There were weekends when the team would go on field trainings, and Merlin had to stay behind for those, but it wasn’t as if he were at a loss for things to do. Gwen, Mithian, and Elena always found a way to keep him occupied, and he did have assignments to complete, chapters to read, and all the other joys of university life to deal with.

And of course there was the other stuff. His Mark was growing, etching into a monstrosity of loops and whirls and interlacing lines. It was a bit of a mess at the moment, lines forming without context or connection, generally making it look as if part of Merlin’s neck were exploding into a vicious rash. It didn’t help that he had to keep a scarf or neckerchief covering the thing, keeping the skin from breathing and generally causing further irritation.

“What is it with that Mark of yours Merlin?” Arthur asked one evening while they lounged working on Arcane Theory homework together. Merlin had been moaning and complaining about it most of the evening since Arthur and Gaius were the only people he could actually complain about it to. “I thought you said that those things were supposed to be important symbols of magical maturity or some rubbish like that. Looks more like a fungal growth.”

“And I’m sure you were a picture of perfection when you went through puberty,” Merlin grumbled, pulling the damp, now warm towel from his neck and dipping it back into the bowl of ice water at his side. He wrung it out and reapplied.

“Puberty?” Arthur put his book aside, looking at Merlin over the rim of his glasses. That had been another surprise. Arthur’s contacts and how undeniably attractive he looked in the wireframe glasses he wore when he was relaxing at home. “I knew you were young, Merlin, but I didn’t think that young.”

Merlin scoffed and threw his towel at Arthur. Arthur laughed and dodged it, but just barely.

“Ok, I’ve clearly been wasting my time with you. Have you been paying attention to anything I’ve been talking about these past couple of weeks?”

“You’ve been talking about magic and nature and _feelings_ , Merlin. What would I know about magical puberty?”

“Well,” Merlin was honestly caught off guard. “From the way you talk, I assumed you already knew.”

“Of course I know about Marks. Everyone knows that sorcerers have Marks that show they have power.”

“They more than show we have power. A Mark _represents_ our power. It’s like...it’s like a sign that shows we’re ready for it and an explanation of what the power is. Every Mark is unique to the individual; the more intricate the pattern, the more powerful the sorcerer. But there are patterns and symbols that can be read by those who know what to look for. For instance, most people born into druidic magic have some variation of a triskelion; a symbol representing renewal and connection. Because the druids, more than any other sorcerers alive, keep to the old traditions, and are closer to magic as it once was and is meant to be. Those who have a specific affinity towards elemental magic, or healing, or auramancy, even dragonlords whose powers are bound by lineage. All have different specific symbols that would be found in their Marks.

“Heaven’s sake, Merlin, it was a simple question. I didn’t ask for a university course on the matter.”

“Actually, I believe you did. One you were failing until recently, I might remind you.”

“And I bet you think that _you_ have something to do with my recent passing marks, don’t you Merlin?” Arthur stood from his seat and made his way to where Merlin sat, half-sprawled across the couch. Merlin shrank into the cushions at his advance, body temperature spiking suddenly as Arthur approached.

“If you think that me working with you on this stuff and your clear improvement have nothing to do with each other, you can keep right on deluding yourself. Heaven forbid I deny you your fantasies.”

There was a long pause. Merlin studied his text, resolutely ignoring the searching eyes he could feel on him. He nearly leapt from his skin when he felt hot fingers brushing against the skin of his neck.

“Don’t be such a baby, Merlin. I’m just looking.” Arthur was indeed looking. It took a moment for him to realize, but Arthur was simply pulling the collar of Merlin’s shirt down to get a better look. It was a very intimate action, one that left Merlin feeling exposed and not particularly comfortable. He shifted positions, pushing Arthur’s hand away and trying his best to be casual about the whole thing.

“Um,” he started, but realized he had nothing prepared to say and ended up flailing uselessly with his hands as his mind scrabbled for words. “Yes, well...”

Arthur smiled. “So what does yours tell you?” He asked, the usual cock-sure swagger dripping from his voice, as if that weren’t an incredibly personal question. As if he expected to get a complete answer even though it was.

“I-it’s hard to say when it’s not all there yet, isn’t it?” Merlin replied, doing his best to push away and get some space. Arthur had never backed off after leaning in to look, and the proximity was making it very difficult for Merlin to think straight.

“But it looks pretty complex,” Arthur added, something else in his voice that Merlin couldn’t quite place. “Very...big too. I don’t even think the last Emrys had a Mark like yours.”

At this point, alarms should have been sounding in Merlin’s head. The comment was too close, too accurate. It should have been cause for concern. But all he could focus on was the heat radiating from Arthur’s skin, and the way it seemed to soak into Merlin, adding to his own heat and singing through his blood.

“It’s, um...just because it’s, um, so swollen right now,” Merlin said. He swallowed thickly, eyes looking everywhere but at Arthur. He couldn’t look at Arthur. “Besides, the Mark of Emrys is different. Infinity on the palm or sole. Everyone knows that, so the Mark that we’re talking about really wouldn’t affect the other mark that represents the Emrys because well, they’re different, and besides there isn’t an Emrys right now so it’s all rather--”

Arthur turned Merlin’s face and their gazes locked.

“...moot.”

“Do you always babble like this when you’re nervous, Merlin?”

Merlin swallowed in reply.

“It should come as no shock. You babble whenever else your mouth opens.” It wasn’t Merlin’s imagination. Arthur’s eyes had definitely flicked to his mouth for a moment when he said that. Merlin shifted, uncomfortable in his seat, trousers uncomfortably tight against a very interested cock.

“So, this conversation started because you claim that when your Mark is forming, it’s like a second puberty for a sorcerer.”

Merlin nodded, apparently unable to form words any longer. Arthur tilted his head, smiling. His fingers were back at the collar of Merlin’s shirt, moving it away to reveal the full extend of his forming Mark.

“I wonder,” Arthur was leaning closer, voice dropping to a seductive growl, “what other parts of the pubescent experience this phenomenon shares.”

The barest brush of a knuckle over the sensitive flesh of his developing Mark, and Merlin was lost. It was a lightning strike of feeling, his nerves firing and magic flaring all at once, overwhelming all other senses. He rode out a wave of ecstasy that ripped through him, fierce and unexpected, a part of him understanding that such a small contact should not have caused such and explosive reaction, but most of him too far gone to care.

When his eyes regained their ability to see, he found himself flat on his back, Arthur leaning over him, calling his name. The firm smack to his right cheek finally brought him out of his stupor and his brain finally began processing information properly again.

“Was that normal?” was Arthur’s first question for him. Merlin wasn’t able to answer because he wasn’t even clear on the ‘that’ that Arthur was talking about.

“Was what normal?” he asked, shocked at how parched his throat felt. “What happened?”

Arthur’s mouth started working, eyes wide as he search for the right words. “You!” he started. “And then you were...and it felt like...and you wouldn’t wake up...and then...” His eyes flashed away from Merlin’s face for a moment, and then a smile began blooming on his face. A smile that was entirely too gleeful for Merlin’s liking. “Did you come?”

Merlin took stock of himself, the shakiness of his limbs, the lax feeling of his body. Elevated breathing, and pulse. Urge to curl up and fall asleep...and a cooling wet spot in his trousers.

“You did!” Arthur crowed.

“It has to be the Circle,” Merlin groaned, struggling into a sitting position and covering himself with his rucksack. “It has to be. Marks are a sensitive spot on anyone who has one, but not _that_ sensitive.”

Arthur simply fell over laughing. Merlin didn’t think that his life could get any more mortifying.

And then there was the sound of keys in the door and Gwaine came marching into the room. Merlin saw him take in the scene in a split second of military precision and knew that he would be asked to explain at some point in the near future, and the very idea of it made Merlin want to crawl into a hole somewhere and not come out until it was summer again and he could pretend that everything that had just happened was a very vivid hibernation dream.

Gwaine’s words killed the mood immediately, however.

“General Pendragon to see you, sir.” He saluted smartly before stepping out of the room once more.

Arthur was on his feet instantly, face serious, wiped of all previous humor. Merlin would have suspected dark magic at work--some kind of body-snatcher spell--if he hadn’t known for a fact that no magic would be able to work near him without him sensing it.

A moment later Uther Pendragon entered the room and Merlin forgot how to breathe.

“General,” Arthur intoned, saluting his father as if they were strangers, and that left a bad taste in Merlin’s mouth. That and the fact that he was sitting in a room with one of his greatest living enemies wearing cum stained pants. Life was funny that way sometimes.

Remembering the pants led to memories of what led to the pants and it dawned on Merlin very suddenly that he was about to be outed. Because if Arthur could notice his barely there Mark in the near darkness of the Dragon’s Garden, there was no way that Uther would miss it now.

He suffered from a sudden, yet very convincing, coughing fit and excused himself from the room. Heart pounding in his chest again as panic filled his veins. He didn’t dare cast a concealing charm or try to clean his pants because Uther was bound to have some kind of magic detecting device that would alert him to any near-by active spells, much like the one he’d given to Arthur. He would have to just...play it cool. He could do innocent and unassuming. Collect his things, sneak to the door and be on his way. Not a problem. First however...

He took a moment to wrap his scarf firmly around his neck, hiding the Mark entirely. He stopped by the coat rack to grab his coat and put it on, covering the small wet patch on his trousers for the most part, took a breath, then inched back towards the lounge where the barely controlled voices of both Arthur and his father were coming from. As he came closer he could make out the tones better and it was clear that they were not having a friendly conversation.

“...don’t know how many time I have to tell you, Arthur,” the general was saying. “Dalliances are for the other imbeciles whiling away their time here. You are my son, and you have more important matters to be attending to!”

“We were studying, father!” Arthur countered. “I was failing Arcane Theory and he was helping me out!”

“I can see how he was helping you out!”

Someone cleared their throat, quiet but firm, and for the first time, Merlin realised that one, he’d wandered back to the entrance of the lounge, and two, there was a third person in the room with Arthur and his father. The man was tall, and broad shouldered. He carried himself like a bodyguard, which Merlin guessed he likely was. He had a head of auburnish hair that fell in loose curls around his shoulders, a beard and mustache, neatly trimmed, framing his jaw and mouth.

The sound brought all eyes to Merlin, and the panic was immediately back.

“Hullo,” he squeaked, lifting a hand in a vague wave as the room all but spun around him. “I was just leaving. Arthur, I’ll get my things tomorrow.”

Merlin turned, looking for the exit, knowing that he had to get out as quickly as possible. Merlin heard something of a triumphant sound come from the general, but he didn’t have the mind to try and decipher it. He just needed out. If only he could remember where the door was. He’d been in this house a thousand times. Why couldn’t he find his way out?

“Merlin,” Arthur was there, and Merlin couldn’t help the full body flinch in response to his presence. “Calm down, you’re fine. I just wanted to make sure that you were ok. You look like you’re going to keel over.” Arthur’s hands were on his face, and his eyes were studying him and there was something like real concern there, but Merlin couldn’t take any of it in because he was pretty sure he was having a panic attack.

“Merlin, breathe,” Arthur commanded, so Merlin did. He knew logically that this had a lot to do with too many emotions in too little time, and magical puberty and all the fun it entailed, but try as he did he couldn’t get himself under control. He had to center himself. He had to focus. He couldn’t do that with Arthur and his father _right there._

“I see that it’s a bad time,” Uther said coming from behind Arthur. Arthur dropped his hands and put himself between Merlin and his father. Merlin wasn’t sure if Arthur was aware of what he’d just done, but the act alone had enough unconscious meaning to break through Merlin’s panic-fog. “Deal with your ‘friend’ and I expect to see you in my office in the morning after your drills. You will give a status report on your team and their readiness for deployment.” The general and his bodyguard brushed past them, moving towards the door, Uther’s coat just barely brushing Merlin’s hand as he did. There was something in the pocket. Merlin stood frozen.

Uther stopped on the stoop of the door, turning back for a moment. “And your sister will be here tomorrow afternoon on holiday. We will dine together at the house promptly at seven.” With that, he spared Merlin one more dismissive glance, then turned and walked away, his bodyguard shutting the door behind them.

Merlin’s knees chose that moment to give out.

There had been...something. Something wrong. Something twisted and broken and _wrong_ in Uther’s possession. It felt like magic, but it was shattered somehow; tortured warped from what it had once been and made into something that it was never meant to be. The feel of it burned through his hand, the magic in his blood recoiling, attempting to get away.

Arthur was there, holding on to him as he twisted on the floor trying to rid himself of the feeling, skin almost literally crawling as his magic tried to cope. For the second time that evening, Merlin found his mind clearing to the sound of Arthur’s worried voice.

“What’s happened? Merlin. Come on. Snap out of it. Don’t think that this will get you out of training in the morning.”

Merlin tried to sit up, but that just caused his head to spin. He chose to stay in Arthur’s lap rather than risk emptying the contents of his stomach onto it. Long minutes passed, Merlin focused on his center, called his magic to heel using every technique he’d ever learned from any of his instructors in controlling his power. It still took too long before he felt like he could move without coming apart.

“What the bloody hell was that?!” Arthur demanded when Merlin was finally able to sit up under his own strength. His voice broke on the last word the way that it did when he was truly out of his depth.

“I don’t know,” Merlin answered truthfully. He wasn’t even sure that he could put the experience into words. “It was something he had. Something in his pocket.” He took a deep breath that shook with the trembling of his muscles. “I’ve never felt anything so...” There were still no words for it. It was magic; that much he could not deny. There was a clear sense of the power that Merlin was born to, but it had been so corrupted that he could barely recognize it. Something had happened, something had been done to it, and at contact with Merlin, the power had reached out, screaming, begging. His head swam at the memory of it.

“He’s stealing magic.” The realisation dawned as the words left his mouth. It all made sense now. It made sense that sorcerers vanished when discovered by Uther. It made sense that there were devices that contained magic that was allegedly synthesised through PenTech patented technology. It made sense.

“He’s found a way to use magic against magic, and he’s using it to...” Merlin’s stomach did heave this time, and it was only through the most divine of mercies that he had the strength to stumble to his feet and into the washroom. Bile, hot and bitter, rushed over his tongue, and it was as if he could taste the lingering rot from that brief contact. That only made him retch harder, like his guts were trying to escape his body.

Things faded out again for a time, his mind in chaos as he began understanding things that hadn’t even been speculation before. There had been no way to know what Uther was up to, but now... The magic was calling to him. That brief moment of contact was all that was needed, a tiny rip in a bubble of suffering that had been so well hidden. How could he have not known?

He was aware of hands on him, helping him stand, leading him to a sink, helping him rinse his mouth and wash his face. There was movement, then something warm on his shoulders, an a few moments later, something hot in his hands. He looked down into a steaming cup of peppermint tea, and beyond it, a pair of pacing feet. Arthur wasn’t speaking this time. Merlin lifted the tea to his lips and sipped.

“S’good,” he murmured into the silence.

“My sister used to make it for me when I was upset,” Arthur told him distractedly. Merlin nodded, focusing his attention on the tea. Letting the warmth of it fill him even though he knew that it would never be able to touch the cold hollow that now lived in his chest.

The silence stretched from moments to minutes. Time enough for Merlin’s mind to calm and for him to regain control of his body. He finished the tea and set his cup aside. Arthur continued to pace.

Merlin studied him; the tension in his body, the look of focused concentration on his face. He wasn’t pacing the frantic tread of someone confused or worried, it was something more thoughtful, the look he got on the field when he was deciding what kind of drills would best prepare his men for whatever training exercise was coming up.

It dawned on Merlin very suddenly, though he didn’t know where the certainty came from. His insides already felt cold and shattered, but he felt something inside of him shift even further out of place.

“You knew,” he said into the silence, voice cracking around the words. “Didn’t you?”

Arthur’s pacing paused only for a moment, then continued, smoothly, as if the disruption never happened.

“I did,” he said. Nothing more.

“For how long?” Merlin found it more and more difficult to continue speaking around the growing lump in his throat.

“Since Gilli.”

Gilli. The student who had started this all. The one with magic who had vanished after being outed as a sorcerer.

“He attacked me, you know?” Arthur continued without prompting. “With that ring of his. I won’t say that it was unprovoked, but you know how that would have happened here. He wasn’t near as strong as you, but he was strong enough. Knocked me down. Knocked me out. Right in front of my mates, too. Not very bright, that one.” He spoke as though speaking to himself, the memory being pulled forward from some place far away, hidden. Merlin knew without knowing how that this was the first time he’d ever retold this story to anyone.

“When I woke, I was in my room, at my father’s estate. He told me that the boy had been dealt with, but wouldn’t tell me how. The thing about Gilli,” he gave a humorless laugh. “He was here on scholarship. He had no money. No family. Few close friends. He vanished, and there was nothing that anyone could do about it. Those who noticed didn’t necessarily care. Those who cared lacked the resources to do anything. Not against my father.

“And me? What was I supposed to do? I get my contacts to give me access to PenTech’s encrypted systems, and find a file with Gilli’s name. Look into an see that there’s some kind of experiment running that will take his magic and put it to better use. What did I care about some wannabe toff who didn’t know his place? And then I see the pictures of him after. His eyes...” By now, Arthur had stopped pacing, and his back was to Merlin. But he kept speaking, and Merlin could do nothing but listen.

“I kept looking,” he said. “I found out that Gilli was not the first, and he definitely was not the last. And everyone working there are graduates from Camelot. Some there willingly, others though, have no choice. They don’t have any pull, any connections to help them get out.”

“Others who were here on scholarship,” Merlin filled in, putting the pieces together. “That’s why you keep trying to scare us off.”

Arthur didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The truth was there, and didn’t need to be more plainly stated.

“I don’t understand,” he said at length. “I don’t understand what happened to him. To any of them. I read the documents. The procedure is supposed to be safe, painless.”

Fury, white-hot and overwhelming filled the void in Merlin’s chest, blinding him for a moment at those words. “Right,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Let’s have someone strip you of your soul and see how painless that is.”

That got Arthur’s attention. He swung around, staring at Merlin incredulously. “Soul, Merlin? Really, there’s no need for melodrama. I think the situation is grave enough as is.”

Grave was an understatement. Arthur had just essentially admitted to having access to proof that his father was kidnapping sorcerers, holding free men, women, and possibly children against their will, and stripping them of their power. The very idea made Merlin’s stomach clench and sent shocky tremors through his muscles.

“Melodrama?” Merlin repeated, beyond emotion now. This had already become too much. He was at his limit. “You think I’m exaggerating? What do you think magic is Arthur? What do you think I’ve been trying to show you these past weeks? It’s not like electricity, or magnetism; not just some generalized energy field that can be tapped and moved and stored for use at anyone’s convenience!” He was on his feet without realizing it. Apparently some of that fury was lingering after all.

“It’s part of us! In our blood! In our bones! Stripping magic from a sorcerer is like...like stripping someone of the ability to love, or the ability to think! For the strongest among us, it would mean death, because, for such people, magic and life are one and the same.”

There were few sorcerers left alive who fell into that category, but Merlin was one of them, and he could see the understanding of that in the mask of horror that Arthur’s face had become.

“I didn’t--”

“Not this,” Merlin cut him off before he could finish the statement. “You didn’t know about this, but you knew that he was taking sorcerers. You knew what he was doing. You’ve known, all this time and you’ve done nothing!” Merlin was collecting his things now, frantic to get away. He couldn’t stay there another minute.

“Merlin, he’s my father! What did you expect me to do?!”

Merlin paused at that, turned to look at him, the guilt and frustration screaming from his eyes, his posture, every part of him. It was clear that Arthur was conflicted in this, but that didn’t change the truth of the matter. By knowing, and doing nothing, he was just as guilty of these crimes as his father.

“I expected you to do what was right, Arthur.”

With those words, he turned and walked from Arthur’s home with no intentions of ever going back.


	12. Chapter 12

Gaius’ office was not the place of comfort that it should have been. It was impossible for Merlin to feel safe at Camelot anymore, not knowing what he knew about the man who founded the place, or what the future of so many of her graduates would hold. He took the time to calm down and clean himself up a bit before storming onto the campus proper, but now he was left feeling lost and helpless. 

“What can we do, Gaius?” he asked his godfather from what had been his regular study seat. He’d been playing through so many scenarios in his mind, but none of them were practical or logical. He simply did not have enough information or resources. 

Gaius gave a tired sigh looking at Merlin with sad eyes. “I hate that you are so young and faced with these situations. But the truth is, Merlin, you are the only one who will be able to put a stop to this. Emrys is not just a position of magical power, it is one of political power as well. There are those who have been trying to champion the rights of magic-users since the Drought began, but that is your right above any other. Without an Emrys, the very social structure of sorcerers everywhere has been unraveling.” 

“Then I’ll go! I’ll go now. Reveal myself to the world and stop Uther. I can’t stand the thought of this continuing another moment. Gaius. You didn’t feel it. It’s all so wrong.” Merlin dropped his face into his hands, scrubbing at it like he could rub the memory away. 

“I understand your need to take action, my boy,” Gaius told him, “but it is still too dangerous.” Your birthday is in three weeks. By then, your power will have matured and then you will be ready to take up your duties.” 

“You’re telling me to sit and do nothing,” Merlin said through his hands. “To just wait.” 

“I fear it’s all we can do, Merlin.” 

No, Gaius’ office was definitely not the place of comfort he was seeking. In fact the air in the room had become too thick to breathe, so he gathered his things and bid his godfather good night. As he left the office, he made is way down the stairs and out of the citadel, numb enough to ignore the danger of sending out a summons even as he did. He walked past the dragon, to his usual place amongst the trees and waited. 

He knew that Alator would not be long. 

After a short and equally fruitless meeting with his guardian, Merlin retired to his room. He dreamed that night and woke with tears in his eyes. His heart was heavy, some incredible weight pressing constantly on this chest, but he couldn’t identify its source; could only feel blind panic and the sense that he was running out of time. Between that and the revelations of the night before, Merlin found that he didn’t have the will to pull himself from bed. 

So he didn’t. 

The burn of his Mark was insistent; the building magic in his veins uncomfortable. He woke the next morning from a restless sleep with these two facts forward in his thoughts, and the phantom memory of knuckles brushing over the sensitive skin where his Mark was. He was never less excited to have morning wood. 

He dealt with it quickly, like scratching an itch. Cleaned himself up with magic, and pulled clothes on. It was barely four in the morning, and he hadn’t left his room at all the previous day. He needed air. 

He picked his way across campus by memory, the fog too dense to see through. The dragon loomed in front of him as he approached the Garden and he felt that pull again. The need to reach out, to touch. But he also knew that it wasn’t time yet. As always, he skirted the statue and made his way to the trees. The fog vanished deeper within the garden, as if by magic, which was obviously the case. Merlin had no complaint to this as it allowed him to have his view of the sky and the stars that brought him peace along with the feel of power wrapping around him.

“It’s beautiful here isn’t it?”

Merlin choked back a gasp, caught off guard by the presence of another. Again. His secret hiding place was getting entire too much traffic, he decided. 

He didn’t recognize the woman joining him in the garden this time, though, for some reason, he felt he should. There was just enough light in the garden for him to make out certain features; tall, slender build, flowing dark hair, pale skin. 

“Allow me,” she said in a teasing, almost musical voice. Next came a softly spoken word, “ _léoht_ ” then a softly glowing globe of light formed between them, and Merlin was given a proper view of one of the most beautiful women he’d ever set eyes upon. He stared at her dumbly for a long moment before what she had just done finally sank in. 

“You have magic,” he said, still staring. 

“A brilliant deduction,” she praised. “I see you fully earned that scholarship of yours.” 

The snarky commentary reminded him too much of Arthur, and the slash of pain that came with that thought was enough to snap him out of his stupor. He ended the spell with a snatching motion and climbed from his perch. 

“You have magic,” he repeated, hissing it quietly this time. “Are you a student here? Camelot isn’t safe for you. You must leave at once!” 

The ringing laughter was hardly the reaction he’d been expecting, but he could at least appreciate the beauty of the sound even if it was entirely inappropriate. 

“You’re absolutely precious, Merlin,” she said. “I can see why he likes you.” 

Merlin blinked in confusion, completely mystified by this woman sorcerer who had appeared before him with his name on her tongue, baiting him in an entirely too familiar way. He sensed no malice or ill intent from her, but still, there was something about the way she spoke, how she carried herself... 

“You wouldn’t, perchance, be related to Arthur Pendragon, would you?” 

Even in the gloom he could see the brilliance of her smile. “You are a smart one! I’m his sister, Morgana.” 

“Sister,” he repeated, feeling like his mind was working particularly slowly that morning. “But if you’re his sister, that means that Uther is--” 

“My father, yes. You’re three for three, poppet. Good show!” 

“I’m glad you think this is so funny,” Merlin replied cooly. “You have magic, and I’m assuming you know about what your father is doing to people like you, but since you clearly still have your power--” 

“I wouldn’t finish that thought if I were you.” If Merlin had spoken cooly, Morgana’s tone was arctic. It felt like the air temperature actually dropped a few degrees when she spoke, and considering the power that Merlin could now feel radiating off of her, he wouldn’t be surprised if it had. “Arthur and I had a good visit last night. He told me all about you.” 

A spike of irritation flashed through Merlin. 

“Oh calm down,” she soothed, settling onto one of the large stones that littered the ground within the garden. “It wasn’t anything that I didn’t already know. I’ve been Seeing you in my dreams for weeks now. That’s how I knew I’d find you here.” 

“What? How?” The irritation swiftly transformed to panic. Even if Morgana was a seer, she shouldn’t have been able to See Merlin within the Circle. That was the whole point of him coming to Camelot! 

“My brother and I have a special bond,” she explained, rather flippantly in Merlin’s opinion. “I’ve always been able to See him and the people near him, even here where other’s cannot. And for the past weeks, Merlin, the people near him seem to consist largely of you.”

It wasn’t enough to put his worries completely to the side, but it did call attention to a reality that Merlin was trying very hard to ignore. 

“That’s because your brother has a sick since of humor,” Merlin replied. 

“That may be true,” she agreed, “but we both know that the deal that you struck with Arthur hasn’t been the reason for the amount of time you spend with him for a while.” 

Merlin had nothing to say to this because he could not deny it. 

“Arthur has grown rather fond of your, Merlin,” she continued. “And I suspect the feeling is mutual. But there’s the messy business of our father fouling things up now isn’t there?” 

“I don’t know how you can stand there defe--” 

“I never said I was defending him.” 

Merlin bit back an irritated sigh. It had been a while since he’d dealt with anyone with the Sight. He’d forgotten how irritating it was to have someone respond to things you hadn’t even said yet. Morgana seemed to have a particular talent for this, and judging by the smirk pulling at her lips, she was well aware of it. 

“I’m here to set a few things straight for you, Merlin. I think you’ve got the wrong idea about Arthur and what is really happening here at Camelot. You should have a seat. This might take a while. That’s a good lad,” she said as Merlin complied. “Now, where to begin? I first began having dreams when I was eleven...” 

Merlin sat and listened. He listed to Morgana’s story of growing up in a home that was full of mistrust and control; of Uther’s obsession with finding a way to make sure the power was in the hands of those who could be trusted to use it properly. She spoke of fear and hiding, and Merlin could immediately relate, because both were themes of his life for as long as he could remember. 

She also spoke of sharing her secret with Arthur, and the way he had supported her through it all. He helped her hide her magic from their father, and Merlin was only vaguely surprised to hear that they enlisted the help of Gaius to help her through the more complicated aspects of coming into ones power. 

“I don’t know what we would have done without him,” she admitted. “Arthur was trying, but he couldn’t possibly understand what was happening to me. It felt like I was going mad when I was approaching my Coming of Age. The dreams kept getting worse and my Mark would not stop itching!” 

She showed him the tender flesh of her inner left wrist, to reveal her Mark. Merlin’s breath caught in his throat. It was a delicate but intricate pattern taking a very familiar shape. A circle with an out-facing crescent on either side. The symbol of the Triple Goddess. It shimmered green in the moonlight and heavy power of the Circle. Merlin could only blink at it, too shocked to give any other response. A Mark like that meant power. A lot of power. The like of which was impossibly rare in the world. 

“It’s always fun to show that to people who get it.” She winked at him. “After it was fully formed, I just told Uther I decided to get a tattoo. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about it, but he didn’t suspect a thing. When it was time to go to uni, I knew that there was only one choice. I had to go to Avalon where I could be around others like me; learn to properly use my gifts.” 

“Avalon.” He said catching the name immediately. The place his father was being held. 

“That’s right. Uther believes I’m studying at some school in Caerleon, but I’ve been at Avalon for three years now. I’m in my last year training to become an instructor. It’s a wonderful place, Merlin. A safe place. And Arthur helped me get there. The moment he found out about what Uther was doing, he contacted me and I was able to share the information with the High Priestesses at Avalon. We’ve been working on a way to end this ever since. Everyone on the island is preparing, and Arthur is, too. He’s training his men to be ready to strike from the inside when the time comes.” She pauses a moment to let her words settle, but there is only one thought on Merlin’s mind; one question he’s waiting for. 

“We need more allies to our cause, Merlin. With magic fading, without an Emrys to unite us, we have to stick together. Arthur has told me that you have your reasons for being here,” she continued, “but this is not where you belong. I’m here to ask if you would come back with me. To Avalon.” 

It was the question Merlin had been waiting for. For months now, the Catha had been seeking a way into Avalon in order to reach his father. Merlin had just found that way. Once he was on the island, he would be able to open a way for others to come to him, piercing the mists from the inside. He was so excited he could barely breathe, could barely contain his eagerness, completely forgot to give an answer. 

“Merlin?” Morgana asked, eyeing him with mild concern.

“I’d love to,” he told her as steadily as he could. There was part of him that wanted to tell her about his father, about the woman in red who had come one day and shattered the life he once led, but instinct told him not to. Morgana thought that Avalon was some kind of refuge for those with magic, and he knew that it would take a great deal to convince her otherwise. He wouldn’t jeopardize this opportunity and risk her rescinding the offer. “I wouldn’t be able to stay long, but I’d love to at least see.” 

“Wonderful. I return tomorrow evening. I’ll make all the arrangements, you won’t have to worry about a thing.” She was so excited. He shared that excitement, but for entire different reasons. He’d have arrangements to make as well. He’d have to call Alator back; let him know that they would have an opportunity to infiltrate Avalon the following night. After so many months, too many months, they would finally be able to save his father. 

Arcane Theory met later that day, but Merlin could only think of the coming journey he’d need to plan for. There wasn’t much he could do during the day. Lax as he was becoming with his magic, he still wouldn’t risk having Alator come to him in broad daylight, and Gaius would be lecturing for the majority of the day, so he really had nothing better to do. He welcomed the chance to distract himself from the flurry of thoughts swarming through his head.

Arthur was there, of course, but Merlin ignored him. In light of what he’d learned from Morgana, he was willing to cut Arthur a bit more slack, but Merlin figured he could enjoy the peace he’d gained through rage. This had been the most peaceful two days he’d had since the term began. He chose to sit at the back of the lecture hall where he and Will used to sit, and watch the way Arthur interacted with the others. It seemed like so long ago that Merlin had first seen him walk into the room like he owned it. He could barely believe that the Arthur from then and the Arthur from now were the same person. 

There was something different about him, in Merlin’s eyes. Something in the way he carried himself. Something in the way he treated the people around him. The arrogance was still there--Merlin doubted that there was anything in the world that could strip the Pendragons of that--but it was tempered somehow. He couldn’t place the change exactly, but it was there. He remembered thinking at one point that Arthur’s smile wasn’t nearly as pleasant as it ought to have been, but now it was. It was entirely pleasant. There was a tension to him that Merlin doubted anyone else would be able to pick up on, but the edge of malice that seemed to lace everything he did in the early days had been dulled to something entirely different. Merlin spent the entire class trying to puzzle it out.

Merlin would have sworn that Will was sitting right next to him, speaking that word, warning him against a habit that he clearly hadn’t managed to break even after that first day. Arthur had apparently sensed the eyes on him, and turned, meeting Merlin’s gaze. It was only a brief moment, long enough for them to acknowledge one another and for Arthur to give a tight smile and nod before turning away. Merlin could practically see the guilt eating away at him. If brought back a wave of remembered fury. Guilt wasn’t going to change anything. He’d still sat by and done nothing while his father committed atrocities against so many innocent people. 

_But are you doing much better?_ a traitorous part of his mind asked. _Now you know, but what have you done? Whined about it to Gaius and Alator, spent a day in bed moping. He’s been quietly defying his own father for years and protecting those he could in the only way he could think of._

Merlin shook his head at the attempt at logic. He couldn’t handle arguing with himself on top of everything else. It was going to give him a mental affliction. Instead he focused his thoughts on what was to come. Once he left, he’d probably not be able to return to Camelot. His birthday was near enough that he should be able to stay in hiding by other means until he officially came into his power. He’d have the support of the Catha, he’d speak his vows and officially take on the mantle of Emrys. Everything would change. 

He might never see Arthur again. 

That thought, and the panic that came with it, was enough to let him know that he could and would forgive Arthur for his many transgressions. Part of him already had. And before he left, Merlin knew that he would have to see Arthur again so that they didn’t part angry. He couldn’t stand the thought of that; couldn’t stand not having a bit more of the easy companionship that had formed between them. The teasing and banter, the furtive looks over open books and... 

_The barest brush of a knuckle over the sensitive flesh of his developing Mark..._  

Merlin shivered at the memory. There was something there; something so much more than over-sensitive skin and amplified magic. Merlin could practically still feel that touch. He’d done his best to ignore it, but he could feel it every time he remembered that night. There was something of Arthur still lingering in him from that barely there moment, and Merlin knew that it was a sign of connection made. A bond formed because he’d wanted it in that moment. But it meant something else too, because a bond, however weak it was, couldn’t be created unless there was something that could be bonded on both sides.

He really did need to talk to Arthur.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My word! Where _does_ the time go?! ^^;

The rest of the day seemed to rush by. There was so much to do, and time had somehow become a very evasive thing. He stopped by Gaius’ office after class, avoiding Arthur and his gaggle of groupies after giving Arthur one significant look. He doubted that his intentions had been accurately conveyed through that look, but that was not important. He had plans to go see Arthur that evening, and Merlin knew for a fact that Arthur had no other plans that night. 

Gaius was concerned, and that came as no shock. He didn’t try to stop Merlin, however. It was clear that this was the only course of action that could be acceptable. Merlin would not pass up this chance to get his father back, no matter the risk. With any luck, the woman in red would never know that he was even there. Alator and his men would get his father; they would escape the island and get away in time to have breakfast with his mother come morning. It was wishful thinking, to be sure, but Merlin clung to that. He couldn’t stand to think of any other outcome. 

After Gaius’ office, he wanted to see Gwen, Elena, and Mithian, a task that was made easy by the fact that all three ladies were in Gwen’s room when he went to call on her.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Gwen teased when he poked his head through her door. “You look like someone I used to see almost daily, but that was weeks ago.” 

Elena and Mithian both gave him significant looks, and Merlin was smart enough to look abashed at the not quite reprimand, but then he was welcomed in with open arms and it was as if nothing had changed at all. It was the hardest part of saying goodbye without actually saying goodbye. No one could know what he was planning except for those involved. It would be safer that way. But knowing that definitely didn’t make things any easier. He knew there would be questions. Gwen would wonder what had happened to him when he didn’t return. What would they think of him when word got out that the sorcerers had found their Emrys, when his face was splashed across the news and he took on the mantle he was born for? Even if he saw them again after, it wouldn’t be the same. He wouldn’t be the same. 

There was a part of him that was already in mourning for the life that he was getting ready to walk away from. He had known that the day would come, and had looked forward to it in a way, but he would miss the simpler times. He could see that already. He lounged on the couch, sipping tea and munching on biscuits for as long as he could, while his flock of birds studied and laughed around him. But, there were two more stops he needed to make before the night was done and it was already getting late.

“I’ve got to go,” he said dragging himself to his feet. “I haven’t spoken to Arthur all day, and I’m sure he’s just about failing Arcane Theory again by now. 

“Well, I suppose it’s acceptable to let you return to your bloke.” Mithian said with a fond smile. 

Merlin returned it indulgently. “Believe what you want, but I’m really not actually sleeping with him,” he informed the room. 

“You’ve got him whipped like that, and you’re not putting out?” Elena asked with a wide smile. “I think that definitely make him your bloke.” 

“You’re good for him,” Gwen added before Merlin could offer a retort. “I’ve never seen Arthur so...” she paused as though searching for the right word. “...content,” she settled on, and grinned at Merlin’s gaping confusion. 

“Go on.” She gave him a warm hug then led him to the door. “Wouldn’t want to leave him waiting.” 

He chose to ignore the wink she gave as well as the chorus of giggles that followed him into the hall. He swallowed down the wave of sadness that welled up inside. He was going to miss them all so much.

Shaking off the thought, he made his way to his room to put down some of his things and straighten himself out before he went to see Arthur. There was a lot they had to talk about before Merlin left. Decisions to be made and air to be cleared. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to look his best when that conversation happened, especially if it was going to be the last time that Arthur saw Merlin as his fumbling, inconsequential self. And if his heart rate seemed to increase and skin seemed to tingle at the thought of this last visit, Merlin could easily enough blame it on the physical affects of his maturing Mark. 

The evening was cool, night just falling and leaving only the barest hint of light in the sky. Students were milling about the campus in groups, all as beautiful and opulent as they had been on that first day that Merlin saw them. He couldn’t deny that they weren’t the same in his eyes anymore. Sure, they were all the same entitled, obnoxious asses that he originally thought them to be, but he knew that it was more complicated than that for a lot of them. He also knew that there were many there who would one day be working against him and his kind under Uther Pendragon’s direction. 

How many of these same people would he have to stop one day? How many might he have to destroy? How many would go to Uther willingly? How many would go under duress? It was impossible to look at the student population of Camelot University the same way anymore. It was clear that so much of his world was forever changed, all through one little horrible revelation. 

“You’re looking like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders today.” 

Merlin had not been paying close attention to the specific people around him as he made his way to the private residences. Still, he was somehow not surprised when Gwaine fell into step beside him. 

“What has you looking so serious, mate?” Gwaine asked, nudging Merlin’s shoulder with his own. 

“Just thinking,” Merlin told him. “It’s funny how much things can change in just a couple of months.” 

“Funny indeed,” Gwaine agreed. “Like us. I think I really fouled things up for what could have been.”

Merlin stopped dead in his walking, caught off guard by the level of honesty. It had been something lurking in the back of Merlin’s mind as well. Gwaine was gorgeous. Tight build. Great smile. Nice. Funny. Everything that Merlin liked in a guy. From that first encounter, he’d felt the draw. And afterwards, even after the kiss and what followed, there were still looks. Heated looks that just made Merlin angrier that Gwaine hadn’t made further attempts and ignored any contact Merlin tried to make. At least until recently. 

But everything was different now. Arthur had come into the picture stealing all of Merlin’s attention, first as an enemy that had to be defeated, then a curiosity that had to be deciphered, and then, somehow, a friend. One unlike any that Merlin had ever had. 

“I guess it’s my loss, then,” Gwaine said, placing a companionable hand on his shoulder. “It’s been obvious since he brought you in, but what I saw the other night pretty much confirmed what everyone already knew. I’m fine with bowing out for the better man. Arthur really needs someone like you in his life.”

“Why do people keep saying that?!” Merlin snapped. He’d heard it twice so far that day and he was already well and truly tired of the sentiment. “Arthur isn’t some helpless puppy that needs someone there to look after him! Let along someone like me!” 

“But that’s exactly what he needs, isn’t it?” Gwaine smirked. “Someone who isn’t trying to be needed.”

“That makes no sense.” 

“It does,” Gwaine stepped forward and tapped the tip of Merlin’s nose with a finger. “But I love to see that clueless look on your face. I know you’re going to see him now because you’d have no other business in this part of campus. But just...before you do...” 

Merlin was actually half expecting it when Gwaine lifted a hand to cup the side of his face. He wondered if he’d absorbed a bit of Morgana’s gift in their time together. That happened some times. He didn’t have long to think on it, however, because Gwaine was angling his face towards Merlin’s and a moment later, their lips met. It was a gentle kiss. One that was testing, tasting, but not claiming in any way. Entirely different to the first time. It was a thing of release and wistful regret but acceptance all at once, and how Merlin managed to get all of that out of one small kiss was quite beyond him. 

Warm breath moved over his cheek and Gwaine held their foreheads together for just a moment before stepping back. 

“He’s lucky to have you, Merlin,” Gwaine told him, a forced grin spreading across his face. “I wish I knew what was happening with you. It would be nice to be the one you trusted with you secrets, but I can’t begrudge him this. I’ll still be around if you need anything, yeah? Try to keep out of trouble if you can.” 

“It’s really not what you’re thinking, Gwaine,” Merlin tried to explain, knowing even as he did that it would do him no good. 

“Sure,” Gwaine nodded, backing away from him. “I get it.” 

_No. You really don’t._ Merlin thought at him, but didn’t bother trying to stop him either. Gwaine was another that he would miss, and who would learn of who he really was only after Merlin was no longer part of his life. It was a sad thought to contemplate, one that almost had Merlin calling him back so that he could explain himself properly. Almost. 

Instead he did as Gwaine told him. He turned back to the way he’d been going before and made his way to Arthur’s home. He’d stopped knocking weeks before, so he didn’t see why he should change the pattern now. The door was locked, but he didn’t need a key to get into spaces. With a thought and a click, the door opened, and Merlin let himself in. 

“Arthur!” he called, making his presence known. 

“Here!” came the usual response, though there was the slightest hesitation to it this time. Arthur was in his living room. He was sitting in his usual spot, glasses perched on his nose as he sat under lamp light reading a text, notes scattered around him. He was bundled up in one of his ratty looking jumpers and had an afghan tossed over his legs. Arthur looked nothing like the intimidating ass that he seemed to be when out in the world, and Merlin’s heart swelled with affection knowing that he was one of the few people who got to know this aspect of Arthur; the part of him that was soft, warm, and almost painfully young for the expectations that were placed on his shoulders.

“I thought I wouldn’t see you before you left.” Arthur said, keeping his eyes studiously on his assignment. 

“You’ve spoken to Morgana, then,” Merlin guessed. 

“Of course I’ve spoken to Morgana. She won’t stop nattering about it any chance she gets. 

Silence fell between them for a spell before Arthur broke it again. 

“You’ve come to say goodbye, I take it?” He was doing his best to keep his voice detached, even, but Merlin had gotten to know Arthur quite well over the past several weeks, and he could tell when something was being forced versus when it was genuine. Merlin sighed and made his way to his usual place on the couch. 

“I actually came because I wanted to talk.”

That seemed to catch Arthur’s attention. He finally lifted his eyes from his reading and met Merlin’s. 

“Talk?” he repeated, and there was the slightest hint of hesitance and hope in his voice that reminded Merlin of why he was willing to put up with so much from this man. 

“Yes, Arthur. Talk. It’s one of those things that adults tend to do as a sigh of maturity or some such rubbish.” 

“And in what universe would a toothpick like you be considered an adult?” Arthur asked, his usual note of teasing back. It was nice to have that again. After not even two days apart, Merlin had _felt_ Arthur’s absence, and that alone was disturbing. He didn’t want to think about the coming days, weeks, months. Gods, he hoped it wouldn’t be years before they saw each other again. 

It was so tempting, the possibility of falling back into the routine that had developed between them after so much time spent together. There was a big part of him that wanted that more than anything else; to forget about commitments, forget about responsibilities. To sped this last night as just Merlin with Arthur by his side. Instead, he said: 

“There’s something you should know.” 

The light mood that Arthur had been attempting was immediately weighed down with the gravity of the statement. 

Arthur, for his part, set his books aside and folded his hands in his lap, watching Merlin with a steady gaze over the frames of his glasses. Merlin had to fight to keep from smiling at the image he made. Instead, Merlin leaned forward and took off his left shoe. He could feel Arthur’s confusion somehow through the magic in the air; knew that the small burst of magic that had reached out to bond to Arthur was still present and strong. He pulled off his sock and then raised his foot, displaying his heel and waited for Arthur to react. 

The mark that was there was small, and could almost pass as a large mole or not-so-large birthmark. It _was_ in fact a birthmark, but a very special one; one that took the shape of infinity, small and brown and insignificant unless one knew what it meant. He had a good feeling that Arthur would understand. 

“The Mark of Emrys.” Arthur confirmed Merlin’s belief with a sigh. He removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I’d suspected,” he continued. “How could I not with all that power and that ridiculous Mark forming on your neck? But I didn’t want to know. As long as I didn’t know I could deny it.” 

Silence fell between them but Merlin made no efforts to fill it. He was taking a risk now, but he was sure that this moment would be well worth it.

“He’s looking for you, you know?” There was no question as to which ‘he’ they were talking about. “He’s been looking for the next Emrys for years. If he found a way to take your power, it would be over. There’s nothing that the sorcerers would be able to do to defend themselves. He’d have complete control over magic and that would make him the most powerful man on the planet.” 

“But not for long,” Merlin said, a disturbing sense of _knowing_ vibrating through his bones. He wasn’t so sure anymore if this was simply spillover from Morgana. The feeling he was experiencing felt older, deeper, like some truth that was speaking to him from the world itself. “If that were to happen, magic would die in this world, and if magic were to die, the world would die with it.” 

“Surely it can’t be as serious as that,” Arthur said, mostly dismissive. But Merlin could hear the lingering question, could feel his concern and the faintest trace of fear.

“It is.” Merlin said simply. He didn’t need to explain himself any further. He knew that Arthur knew he was speaking the truth.

“Then it’s good you’re leaving,” Arthur said. “Surely Avalon would be the safer place for you now.” 

“It won’t.” Merlin rose to his feet breathing out his frustration as he allowed himself to feel the full weight of the situation. “There is no place safe for me right now, Arthur. No one knows what’s happening on that island, but whatever it is, it’s bad. Bad enough that my father sacrificed himself to keep me away from them. The only reason I’m going there now is to get him back!” 

Silence fell again, swift and unyielding, the weight of the confession doubling the tension in the air. Merlin had no clue how Arthur would respond to the situation, but he could feel shock followed swiftly by concern, and then Arthur was there at his back, turning him and looking him square in the eye. 

“Are you insane?” he all but growled, “You can’t expect to go there and face down God knows what on your own!” 

“Of course I can’t!” Merlin shot back, rolling his eyes. From the look on his face, that was not the answer Arthur had been expecting. Arthur clearly didn’t think much of his planning abilities...not that Merlin had given him any reason to. “I know I can’t hope to save my father on my own. I have a meeting with the Head of the Catha later tonight. He’ll know to be prepared, have some of his warriors ready, and I’ll open a path for them to come to me once I’m on the island. I’m not completely suicidal!” 

“Well you could have fooled me!” Arthur returned, throwing his hands up for emphasis. “Or perhaps I’ve hallucinated the past two months!” 

Merlin couldn’t really argue against that point so he settled for glaring. There was no heat to it though. All he could think of was the many times they’d had arguments just like this one before.

“You really are insufferable, you know that?” He said, laughing despite himself. “I hate you so much because I can’t bring myself to hate you at all.” 

“It’s part of my secret power,” Arthur said. There was warmth in his voice that Merlin had not heard before. 

“That’s not acceptable. I’m the only one here allowed to have--”

Arthur kissed him. 

The moment had been building since he’d walked through the door. If he was honest with himself, it had been building since the moment their little deal had been struck. There was gravity between them that could not be resisted, and Merlin had no intention of fighting it.

Arthur’s mouth was warm, soft, and very intentional. There was a focus there, an understanding that this was likely their last chance to acknowledge what they’d spent weeks ignoring. The tiny thread of connection that had formed between them when Arthur had touched his Mark was twining stronger, pulling closer, and Merlin couldn’t be arsed to try to stop it, consequences be damned. He wanted this, whatever ‘this’ turned out to be. He wanted some way to know that he wouldn’t have to say goodbye completely; that their parting would not be forever.

Arthur’s tongue was hot and demanding, and the magic in Merlin’s blood responded to the rush of heat it sent through his blood by spiking and dancing and making his nerves spark. He’d never felt anything like it, and, in that moment, he felt that no one else would be able to make him feel quite the same way. He chose not to acknowledge the sounds he was making, because he did have some pride left. But he did appreciate the response they elicited from Arthur, evidenced by the hard line of cock pressing into Merlin’s thigh.

Merlin moved his leg to add pressure, and Arthur tore his lips away inhaling deep and slow through his nose before releasing a hot shuddering breath over Merlin’s neck. The air whispered over the sensitive skin just above his Mark. Arthur reached towards his scarf with focus, but Merlin stopped him. He knew what Arthur was aiming for, but Merlin would rather not have a repeat of the other night if he could avoid it. Direct contact with that building point of power would be entirely too much. Instead he directed the hand lower, and Arthur was happy to oblige, taking hold of the bulge in Merlin’s pants and giving a gentle squeeze. 

“I suppose this will do,” Arthur purred into his ear. “For now.” 

A shiver ran down Merlin’s back at the implications. He knew in that moment that this would not be it. This was not an end, it was a joyous beginning, and he was happy to take everything that Arthur was willing to give and come back for more. 

Arthur moved them to the couch and pushed Merlin back, settling between his legs and aligning their hips so that he could push _down_ to meet Merlin’s _up_ and they could breathe each other’s air and swallow each others moans and connect in a way that neither dared before. It was desperate, and clumsy, and frantic, and just a bit perfect.

And then it wasn’t. 

Merlin froze, just a moment before his body seized up. 

“Don’t tell me that you came already, _again_ Merlin,” Arthur teased, but then he clearly got a proper look at Merlin’s face and realized that there was something wrong. 

“Merlin?” he asked, but it was only a very distant part of Merlin’s brain that registered Arthur’s voice at all. Inside, he was on fire. Something was happening. Something horrible was happening. He was seeing things. Remembering memories that he’d never had. There were flashes of pain, voices, so much. _Too_ much. Everything was coming at him at once so he couldn’t see anything. But all of it was laced with the familiar. He had seen it all before but he’d forgotten. He’d been _made_ to forget.

There was only one person alive who could block his memories like that. 

“No!” he gasped out, shoving the heavy body that had been laying on him away. He wasn’t even consciously aware of the fact that his magic had given an extra push and shoved Arthur half way across the room. “Da! No!”

He could feel it now. The link that he shared with his father, the one that his father had been blocking for weeks and weeks now was opening. Things that had been taken were leaking out, and Merlin could remember the dreams. The woman’s voice. The things they’d shared and spoken of. He could feel the sick taint of dark magic as it wrapped around his father’s power. He would feel it all. The link was slowly falling wide open because his father was too weak to sustain the block; because his father’s magic was failing.

Merlin was aware that he was running, though he wasn’t sure where or why. He was aware that he was losing control of his tightly leashed power, but it wasn’t even in his mind to try to hold it back. He could feel his father again and was aware of his thoughts and emotions, and there was a single certainty that Merlin could not accept. A certainty that his father was resigned to, but Merlin _could not_ accept. 

His father was going to die. 

“No,” the word came out as a gasp. “NO!” a broken scream, because he felt the moment that he crossed the threshold out of the Circle’s influence. He felt it as the pressure of magic and power fell away leaving the connection between himself and his father clear and free of interference. And in that moment, he felt his father as he hadn’t in months, and knew that his father could feel him, too. He could feel his father’s regret.

_Stay strong for me, son._

The words whispered through his mind like a prayer, and then...

It was not a thing that could properly be put to words. There was that feeling again, the double experience of the place where his father’s Mark lay over his chest, the experience of burning and burning, as if the Mark were a brand. In the midst of fire, there was a moment of ice; a clean moment of precision as a knife slid between ribs, pierced his father’s heart. He could feel it all, because his father had opened the way and pulled him in. He was there, with his father, as life faded from his body, but he was also there when the dark magic did its work. He felt as his father’s magic was pulled away. Felt it try to take hold of the gift that was Merlin’s birthright. The inheritance from his father that mattered most. He felt it all, and understood, gasping and sobbing and barely able to cope with it all. 

An instant and eternity later, it was over. Merlin found himself curled face down on a cobbled street, making sounds no human should ever make. He couldn’t breath; couldn’t think. Everything was wrong. The entire fucking world was _wrong!_  

His Mark was on fire, burning and burning as his father’s had in those last moments. Burning with power. Burning as the gift of the dragonlord rushed to him, too soon, far too soon. And as it did, he felt as it was followed. Malevolent intention focused on him, and he knew. It was over. He’d been found, and there was nothing that he could do about it.

<i> _Merlin. </i>_

He knew the sound of that voice, almost whispered, almost hissed. She was like a snake, slithering in delight, and he could feel her scales crawling over his skin. 

“I always knew Balinor was lying about you,” her voice spoke from just in front of him, and Merlin couldn’t bring himself to care. He lifted his head and saw her. The woman in red. The one who had destroyed his life. Twice now. 

“And now here you are.” The words were spoken with relish. “Offering yourself to me like a pig on a platter.” 

He felt her approach. More precisely, he felt her power come near. He focused on her through tears he hadn’t even realized he’d shed and saw her image waver before him. She drew nearer, hand outstretched. 

“So much power,” she whispered. “I can feel it even here. You are what we’ve been searching for.” 

He shuddered under the pressure of her presence, attempting to rally his thoughts, to defend himself. But he couldn’t. Every time he tried to move his nerves would misfire, too much magic coursing through his system too quickly. He couldn’t control his own body let alone direct his power with any kind of focus. 

She loomed over him, triumphant. “Ripe for the picking.” 

There was a terrible moment when Merlin knew that he was lost. Everything had fallen apart so quickly that he couldn’t even process what had happened yet, and would likely be dead before he ever could. He could feel her reaching for him, feel his magic responding to her presence, and then... 

The crack of gunfire shattered the silence of the evening, snapping Merlin’s attention up. Nimueh hissed, stepping back in shock, a flickering hand hovering over a shimmering hole in her shoulder. 

“Corporeal projection!” Arthur’s voice shouted from somewhere behind him. “Disrupter rounds, full spread on my mark!” 

Arthur was suddenly at Merlin’s side, scooping him over his shoulder and lifting him out of the line of fire. 

“You will not thwart me, Arthur Pendragon!” Nimueh hissed after him, voice filling the air with rage and violent intent. Merlin could feel her power focusing, but it was already too late. Arthur gave the order, and the Dragon’s opened fire from protected positions at the edge of the school grounds. Merlin felt power flying through the air, different and dizzying, and because his face was towards the place he’d just been on the ground, Merlin saw when the shockwaves from the Dragons’ weapons hit, and tore the image of Nimueh apart. A moment later, an echoing screech was all that remained of her.


	14. Chapter 14

Merlin could do nothing beyond stare at the spot where Nimueh had been moments before. He could feel his body twitching in Arthur’s arms, magic surging and receding and screaming just beneath his skin. He felt like he could come apart with the power his body was struggling to contain, and he could feel his Mark burning, stretching as it attempted to seal in more magic than it was ready to.

Arthur was still carrying him, and through hazy vision, Merlin became aware of the other member’s of the Dragon Corps flanking them. Gwaine was close to him for a moment, concern plain on his face, then Lance, looking into his eyes and examining him with professional detachment. He got the sense that conversation was happening around him, but Merlin was barely aware of himself, let alone what anyone else was doing. His body seized against a sudden surge of magic. He was certain that he would come undone at any moment. Part of him wanted to. 

Then he was being smothered. Something horrible was holding him down, but also holding him together. He hated the feeling of it, whatever it was. But he was also grateful, because whatever was smothering him was holding the magic back, allowing him enough presence of mind to be able to focus on something other than the overload of power. 

“That should be enough to keep it controlled without cutting him off from it completely,” Lance was saying as he leaned over and fiddled with something that sat heavy and disturbing around Merlin’s wrist. It was a device of some kind, and whatever it was made his skin crawl and heart pound erratically in his chest. He reached for his magic to get it off, but found that he couldn’t. It was there, but just out of reach.

“What have you done?” he rasped out, eyes falling immediately on Arthur who was pacing next to him. Anything that had happened while Merlin was unawares would have fallen to Arthur’s decision. “What are you doing to me?”

Merlin tried to struggle up, but Arthur was immediately at his side, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and forcing him to lay back again. 

“Calm down,” he said in soothing tones. “It’s just there to keep the magic under control until you can control it yourself. It looked like you were going to go nuclear for a moment there.” 

His hand was smoothing Merlin’s hair back, and his face was pinched with worry. Merlin couldn’t bring himself to doubt Arthur, but he couldn’t stand the feeling of that _thing_ blocking his magic. It felt like he was suffocating. 

“Get it off, please,” he managed, swallowing thickly around the panic in his throat.

Arthur hesitated, sharing a look with Lance before looking back down at Merlin. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Merlin? You couldn’t even move under your own power a moment ago.”

“It was just too much too fast,” he ground out through clenching teeth. “Hadn’t been expecting it. I can handle it now. Arthur, _please_.”

That seemed to be good enough. Arthur gave a nod towards Lance, and a moment later, he could feel the effects of the device, whatever it was, slowly fading. He was grateful that it was a gradual change, because the magic in him was huge, and if it had come at him all at once, he was certain that he would have been lost again. As it was, the pressure of it came on slowly and he was able to focus on control.

Power weighed him down in ways that he never imagined it could as Merlin forced himself into a sitting position. For the first time, he realized that he was back in Arthur’s home, laying on his couch. Chairs and tables had been shoved aside to make space for Lance’s treatment and Arthur’s pacing. There was a box on the floor by Lance’s side that reeked of twisted power; stolen magic.

A flash of rage washed though him, and the box, and devices it had contained disintegrated. His fury directed itself on Lance, shoving him away with a thought, then focused on Arthur.

“How _dare_ you use it against me?” He barely recognized the sound of his own voice, deep and threatening and angry like he’d never felt before. There was still a part of him that was in a state of panic, furious and helpless and terrified, and this was the only offense that he could actively lash out at. “You _know_ what it is now. _Know_ what it means and _still_!”

It wasn’t until he heard the sound of safeties clicking and weapons being leveled at him that he realized that he’d lost control of his power. Arthur was hovering several inches off the floor, as were several other objects in the room. Lance and Gwaine both has guns leveled at him, but both were looking very confused and very uncomfortable. Arthur had a hand up in a signal for them to hold their fire. It would have been so easy to make the guns vanish as well, to destroy the house, level the school. He’d barely have to think it. The power flowing through him augmented by the power of the Circle could do _anything_.

And he could already feel himself becoming lost within it. This wasn’t like before when he’d taken on foreign power and had to find a safe way to release it. This power was his. He couldn’t let it go because it belonged to him, part of his lineage; part of his legacy. But he wasn’t ready for this power yet. He could barely contain it let alone control it.

He released Arthur from his magic’s grip and willed everything back to its place, humbled by the struggle it took to call that power back under control. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, body shaking with reaction. “She killed my--,” he choked on the words, unable to finish the sentence. He breathed in sharp, forcing emotions away. 

“I am the son of a dragonlord,” he spoke formally, “and that gift has just been passed to me. It is rare for this to happen before a sorcerer comes of age. I fear that I’m having difficulty--” 

“What do you need?” Arthur interrupted, stepping forward and cutting into Merlin’s attempt at explanation. His eyes were wide and earnest, jaw set in determination. “What can we do?”

Merlin fought to keep himself together. He couldn’t afford to fall apart just yet. There was too much to be done. 

“The Garden,” he whispered, knowing that Arthur would understand. The last time he’d been in danger and magic was involved, the Dragon’s Garden was where he had gone to regain control. He sensed that he’d be able to use the heart of the Circle’s power again. 

Arthur nodded once, then turned to look at Lance and Gwaine. “You two stay here until the other’s get back with Gaius, then meet us at the north gate of the central garden.

“I think I’ll be going with you instead,” Gwaine informed them, slipping to Merlin’s side and offering a steadying shoulder. Merlin hadn’t even realized that he’d been listing back and forth. Arthur looked like he wanted to protest and Merlin understood why. Arthur was the only one aware of the full implications of the situation, and he wasn’t sure how much of it Merlin was ready to share with the others. Merlin was grateful for the consideration, but now was not the time for it. He gave a shrug or a nod or maybe some kind of mutation of both. Whatever he did, Arthur seemed to understand. 

“Fine,” he said, taking Merlin’s other side. “Lance, you wait here for the others. Needless to say, nothing of this is to be spoken of with anyone beyond the professor and the team. Lance gave only a nod, then Merlin as being bustled out of the house between Arthur and Gwaine. It was only then that he realized that he was still only wearing one shoe. 

The campus was uncommonly quiet. They encountered no other students as they made their way across the grounds, and that struck Merlin as immediately strange. It wasn’t that late. There should have been more people around, but Merlin didn’t put much though into the sudden absence of the student population. He had other more pressing matters at hand. 

There was so much that he couldn’t think about, but also couldn’t ignore. He was found now. There was no way that Nimueh would have missed his location, and the fact that she knew who Arthur was made it clear that Camelot was no longer a safe place for him, Dragon’s Circle or not. He had to make contact with Alator and the other Catha. They were the only ones who he could turn to now. Danger loomed closer with every passing moment. For all he knew, Nimueh already had people at Camelot who were looking for him even now.

And this power. Why was he responding so strongly to it. Why did it feel so immense. It was nothing like he’d ever felt or heard of. Nothing like what he’d felt in his father as the strength natural to the dragonlord.

His father... 

The magic didn’t seem right. It was too big. Bigger than anything any mortal should have been trusted with, and it was still incomplete. His full potential wouldn’t touch him until the moment of his Coming of Age, when the Mark was complete and his power safe. If this was what holding only part of that power felt like, he couldn’t imagine what it would mean to take on the rest. His only hope was the Garden. The power there had helped him before. It would have to help him again. 

“I’ll admit that this is a bit more than I was expecting your secret to be.” 

Merlin jumped at the sound of Gwaine’s voice coming from right next to his ear. He knew that was a bad sign. His mind was drifting and that could not be allowed. 

“I hope you at least understand why I was keeping it secret.” Talking seemed like a good way to keep his mind focused, and his secret was a topic he could handle well enough. “Not exactly safe for me or anyone else to let this get around.”

“I’ll admit that you were right about being arse deep in this from the start,” Gwaine said, “but I don’t get the part about you not being able to leave. You’d have to be a bit touched to stay here, even knowing what Uther tends to get up to.” 

Merlin swallowed down a wave of illness at the reminder. “That I didn’t know about until recently,” he admitted. “But even had I known, this was the safest place. The power here has been protecting me for some time now.” 

“But that’s buggered now, isn’t it? That woman seemed very keen on getting her hands on you.” 

“We’re here,” Arthur broke into their conversation. 

Merlin knew, of course. He could feel the power of the Circle more and more keenly as they drew near, and as the dragon came into sight, he felt an inexplicable sense of relief. The weight of his power seemed to lessen, and his thoughts were properly clear for the first time since the power had come to him. 

Always before, there had been that sense of knowing that bled from the dragon, as if the great stone creature were watching him, waiting for something. The urge to reach out to it had always been there, but alongside that urge had always been a warning. The time wasn’t right, reaching would only lead to disaster. The warning was no longer there, and he knew why. He would not have been able to speak to the dragon before he’d come into his power as a dragonlord. 

The pull was irresistible now. He shrugged off the support of Gwaine and Arthur, ignored their questions and strode forward without consciously thinking of it. This was what he needed. This was what he had to do. His hands reached and so did his magic. Skin touched stone, and power exploded. Or so it seemed. Light burst behind his eyes, and he was connecting to power so old that it made the world look young. This was the stuff that worlds were made of; power that governed time itself. The cosmos spun within it, every life that was or ever would be. Merlin felt as though his mind had expanded to be, at once, everything and nothing at all.

And then the dragon spoke. 

“I’ve waited many years for this moment, young warlock.” The voice said directly into his mind, steeped with a sense of ancient knowledge and warm familiarity. “The rebirth of the old ways is at hand.” 

Merlin opened eyes that he didn’t remember shutting and found himself standing before the dragon, but it was no longer a statue. It was a creature of flesh and bone and magic. But this wasn’t the Garden where he’d been led. This place was different; seemed to be comprised primarily of swirling light. 

“What are you talking about?” he asked, confusion overriding all else in that moment. “Where are we? Why aren’t you a statue anymore?” 

“We are within your magic, Merlin. A power the like of which the world has not seen since the days of the first Emrys. And I have never been a mere carving, as you well know. But as magic bled from the land, I and my kin lost our connection to it as well, and with it, our ability to interact with the world.”

It was far too much information for Merlin to take in at once, and he was left reeling. “Wait,” he said, waving his hands and then using them to grab at his head like his hands were the only thing holding it together. “Inside my magic? How is that even possible? And what’s this talk of the first Emrys? And Other dragons? I’m sorry, Sir Dragon, but you’re not making much sense!” 

“My name is Kilghaarah,” the dragon told him, “and all that you need to know will come to you in time.” 

“In time!?” Merlin practically screeched. “I don’t know how much you’re aware of what’s happening out there right now, but I’m out of time! Two of the most powerful people on the planet are both after this ‘great gift of power’ I have, and if either of them gets their hands on it, it could mean the end of the world! I can’t even control the power that I have enough to defend myself without potentially destroying everything and everyone around me, and I’m still weeks away from coming of age! I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!” 

Merlin’s eyes were burning with frustration, his head pounding with stress and adrenaline. The entire situation had fallen completely out of hand.

“The power you hold is your own, young Emrys,” the dragon said solemnly. “You grieve for the loss of your father, and in your heartache, you resist the power that once was his. You cannot control power that you do not accept.”

“How can I accept it when I know it shouldn’t yet be mine?! When I know what it cost and how it came to be? I don’t want it! I want _him_! I was so close and now...”

He couldn’t continue speaking, tears choking off anything further he could have said. The power around him swirled and raged with his turmoil, but the space where he and the dragon stood was left unmolested. Nothing was said for a long while as Merlin struggled to control himself once more. 

“I mourn with you in this loss, young warlock” the dragon said at length. “All dragonlords are dragon-kin, and in your father’s death, we all mourn the loss of a brother. But know this: as long at you hold this gift, your father will live through you. To deny it is to deny yourself, and your father’s sacrifice will have been in vain. You have a great destiny before you, Merlin, and many enemies who will stand against you. It pains me to say it, but your path will not be an easy one. You have suffered a great loss today, but your father’s death was not the first casualty in this war, and it will not be the last. 

“It is unfair that this burden should fall to one so young, but know that you are not alone in shouldering it. You have many friends in many places and will find more as you move forward in your path. You will be the bond that will bring them together, and though it will be a difficult road you follow, you must be strong and see it through.”

_Stay strong for me, son._ His father’s last words. He did not want this. He did not want to be the pivotal piece of some great destiny. He didn’t want this power. He didn’t want this war. He just wanted things to be as they had been. He wanted lazy Sundays with the scent of biscuits in the air. He wanted game nights with his parents and magic lessons with the druid children in their encampment in the woods. He wanted a simple life, not one that would be wrought with loss and suffering and guaranteed pain. He wanted to quit now. It all seemed too great, too vast to be possible at all.

But all of those were selfish desires. There was a task that had to be completed and he was the only one would could. Much as he didn’t want any of it, he knew that he would never be able to live with himself if he allowed others to suffer when it was within his power to stop it. That was not the son his father raised, and though he would not be there to see it, all Merlin could do now was do his best to live up to his father’s hopes for him. All he could do was take this destiny head on.

“I guess I should be heading back, then.” He felt calmer, more grounded than he had before. The ache in his heart was still fresh and raw, but it wasn’t all-encompassing anymore. He could think beyond it, and he knew that was all he would need to control it now.

“I cannot do much as I am,” the dragon said. “The time has not yet come for our kin to return to the world, but I will offer what help I can.” The light around him began to swirl more brightly, and Merlin could tell that he was returning to the Garden and the world that he would have to face. “Trust in the young Pendragon. He, too, has a part to play in the fate you face.”

The last he heard as if from a great distance. He only just was able to make out the words and they only left more questions. Those questions had to be put to the side, however. The warm press of stone was becoming apparent under his fingers and the world was fading back into being. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter with significant changes, mostly in the way that Merlin interacts with magic. This will probably be significant moving forward :D

“Merlin!” Arthur was standing just beside him, tightly controlled panic clear on his face. When Merlin blinked his eyes open to look at Arthur dumbly, the panic receded and turned into something that looked a bit more like irritation. 

“Some warning would have been nice,” he growled. “What were you doing?” 

Merlin blinked at him, then blinked up at the stone his hands were pressed against. It felt almost alive beneath his fingers, pulsing with an energy that had not been there before.

“The dragon,” he said, speaking through the fog in his mind. “I was talking to the dragon.” He took a deep breath and took in the calm that now filled him. The storm that had been raging within before had settled, leaving his mind clear and focused in a way he could not have managed before.

“The dragon,” Arthur repeated. Not a question, but not quite believed either based on the sound of his voice. “Perfect. Next you’re going to tell me that the bloody thing is going to come to life.” 

Merlin looked at him and couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at his lips. Arthur read it for the confirmation that it was, and stepped away, hands going to his head and running through his hair, muttering under his breath. Merlin didn’t blame him. It was a lot to take in, after all. He was having a hard enough time wrapping his head around it as well. 

“He said he’d do what he could to help me,” Merlin said, trying to bring focus back to the situation at hand. As he settled back into his skin and felt his power settling inside of him, he tried to take stock and see if there was anything different. As soon as he was looking for it, he could feel the stinging pull at his neck and understood that there was something very different happening with his Mark. His fingers went to it and he could feel heat and foreign magic moving through the lines of power. 

“He’s speeding the completion of my Mark,” Merlin informed the night at large. Arthur was back at his side a moment later, pushing his head to the side to examine the place where his Mark was. 

“Is that safe?” he asked. Merlin could only shrug. He doubted that there was much precedence for what was happening to him. He could feel it now, stronger with every passing moment. It was like there was a concentrated pocket of space where time was moving a little differently latched to the side of his neck. The area around his Mark was tense and tight, pulled wrong, but not unbearably. He could tell by the feel of it that it wouldn’t take long. The dragon’s magic would take care of another three weeks worth of progress within the night.

“I think it’ll be done in the next hour or so,” he said, pushing Arthur away and pressing a hand against the thing. He was anxious to see what it would resolve itself into. The rest of the conversation he’d shared with the dragon, he planned to keep to himself for the time being. He wasn’t yet ready to share everything; wasn’t yet ready to face himself and his own feelings. He needed to make it through the rest of the night before he could allow himself to be distracted by anything else.

“I need to call my guardians and get out of here as soon as I can.” 

“Oh, but I’ve only just gotten here, _Merlin_.” 

Everyone and everything froze. Merlin’s blood ran cold, his breath icy in his lungs as he turned his head to the direction of the voice. There were three figures standing in the shadows of the inner garden. As he watched, one of the figures stepped forward into the soft light cast and diffused by the lamps that circled the space. 

“It would be so rude of you to leave so soon.” 

It was Nimueh. Of course it was Nimueh. The woman was a nightmare, and like all nightmares she had a way of rearing her head when least expected. The others behind her stepped from the shadows a moment later, one a strikingly beautiful woman with blonde curls, hand clasped tightly in the hand of the third member of the party. Merlin’s stomach dropped when he realized that the other woman was Morgana. 

His senses were still scrambled, in a state of confused chaos, but they were settling with every passing moment. As they did, he could feel the pulsing residual echoes of magic. Magic that was tied directly to the magic of the Circle; powerful, ancient, but so familiar that he hadn’t even noticed that something significant had happened. There had to be a means of transportation connected to the circle somehow. It’s the only logical way that they could have made it to Camelot so quickly. And the only one he know for certain could track him was… 

“Morgana, what are you doing with these people!?” Arthur stepped in front of him, placing himself between Merlin and the clear and real threat before them even as Merlin’s eyes turned to the woman he thought would be an ally. Both Arthur and Gwaine had guns drawn and raised. 

“These are _my_ people, Arthur,” Morgana said, and already something about her struck Merlin as off. The fire that had been in her eyes before was quenched, her voice hard, but distant, nothing like the woman that he’d spoken with just the night before. “My sister and my mistress, both high priestesses of the Old Religion. They needed me, so I answered their call.”

The knot in his stomach tightened as he realized what was happening. He didn’t even need to send out the tendril of magic to confirm it, but he still hoped it was not true. Morgana was not herself. She was being controlled.

“Why are you doing this, Nimueh?” he asked. He felt all attention shift to him, but he didn’t take his eyes from the hated woman before him. Someone so like himself, but so not. This was the first time that he’d met her in person, but she had been one of the primary motivating factors in his life for as long as he could remember, since even before he knew her name.

“Morgana has nothing to do with this. Release her. Let her go. Let all of them go.” He gestured to Arthur and Gwaine as well. “This is between us. They’ve nothing to do with it.” 

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur snapped at him even before he’d finished speaking, then took a careful step forward keeping his gun leveled on Nimueh. Gwaine was covering Arthur, and Merlin was watching Morgana. The tension in the air was so thick, Merlin could almost believe it was holding him in place. 

“Morgana,” Arthur spoke very carefully. “I want you to step away from them and come over here. Now.” 

Nothing happened for a moment, but then the blonde woman smiled and spoke for the first time. 

“You heard him, sister,” she said, almost sweetly. “Do as he said. Go to him.” 

They all had a split second to recognize the intent behind the words, the malice reflected in Morgana’s eyes as she stepped forward raising a hand. Only years of practice allowed Merlin to react in time, raising a hand of his own as the wave of magic washed over them all and _pushed_. His shield wasn’t as strong as it could have been, his mind and power still a bit scattered with all that had happened. The Circle’s effect on magic made the shield stronger, but the push itself had been amplified as well. 

Merlin felt himself fly through the air and collide with one of the dragon’s massive stone arms. Power echoed through him, reverberating through his body and through the air like a brass gong. He knew without a doubt that the push could have killed. The power was too strong and too dangerous here. Tiny actions would have huge consequences and he was the only one giving any care to that reality. He had to be careful. This fight could easily level the school otherwise.

That was actually the least of his problems. The push had been meant as a distraction; a way of separating Merlin from the others, and in this it had been successful. Nimueh rushed forward, leaning into him as she wrapped a hand around his neck, giving him a personal experience with her terrifying beauty. 

“You’ll be coming with us now.” Her grin was the definition of hunger and glee. 

A shot rang out, and Nimueh flinched, attention falling from Merlin as she turned to face her attacker. Arthur was several feet away, gun in hand, back to Gwaine who was holding off attacks from both Morgana and the blonde woman using some kind of shielding device. It shook and echoed with blue light with every impact of magic. Arthur shot off two more rounds that sent Nimueh dragging Merlin in front of herself to use as protection, a hand around his neck. 

“What are you _doing,_ Morgause!?” Nimueh snarled. It was just the distraction Merlin needed. He held his breath and trusted that the Circle’s power would help him in this. Utilizing one of the hand-to-hand techniques Arthur had drilled into him, Merlin gripped her thumb where it was holding him, and in a pulling twisting motion of his body, broke her hold. He followed through immediately with a whispered spell, shoving Nimueh away with a push of his own. She made an affronted sound as she flew through the air, landing hard on the grass near the garden’s entrance, but she was on her feet an instant later, red silk flying about her like angry flames. 

“You really are too much like your father, Merlin,” she hissed. “This doesn’t have to be difficult. We should not be enemies.” 

“You pretty much set that in stone when you murdered him and tried to take his magic,” Merlin responded in a voice far steadier than he felt. “I will never help you. I will never side with you. And I will devote everything that I am to stopping you and protecting the world from people _like_ you!” 

Nimueh’s smile was confident and chilling. “Then you will die,” she said simply, an instant before the skies opened and rained lightning upon them. Nimueh had called all focus to herself. No one had given much notice to Morgana and the blonde woman standing to the side or the blonde’s whispered words. Too late, Merlin realized that there was a touch of magic in that as well. A distraction technique. Directing attention. 

The ground exploded around them, sending Merlin and Arthur and Gwaine flying for the second time in minutes. The air stank with ozone, and Merlin could feel his heart raging in his chest. Where were the others? He hadn’t had time to shield them this time, and he knew that there was no way they could have survived such an onslaught without some kind of protection. There was no time to figure out what had happened to Arthur and Gwaine, however, because he could already feel the air charging again. He rolled out of the way just in time to avoid a direct strike from a bolt of lightning. He wasn’t sure if they even cared about getting his power anymore. It felt like they were just trying to kill him outright. 

The power in the air was building to dangerous levels, so he called it to himself and used it to create a shield when he felt the next strike coming. The shield absorbed the power, sparking and glowing with blue-white energy that was blinding. He had to use the power before his shield reached saturation and collapsed in on him, but he couldn’t see a safe place to divert it. He didn’t have time to sort out a proper plan and the risk of hitting one of his friends was far too great. 

_Back to the source._ The thought was a whisper in his mind, barely there, but even as it faded, he knew by instinct that he could redirect. It wasn’t a spell he’d ever learned, but somehow he knew to connect to earth to find the pulse of power that resonated with the light surrounding him. With a thought, he sent the power back to its source, amplified by the power of the dragon and the force of his will.

He heard the shriek of pain before his vision had cleared enough to allow him to see Morgause collapsed, shaking as she struggled to hold herself up on hands and knees, Morgana rushing to her side. The woman looked furious; singed and clearly hurting, but not yet out of the game. Nor was she the only player. 

The lightning was no longer raining from above, but in the dazed moment that his focus was on Morgause, fire struck from behind, hitting him full force in the center of his back. The scream that ripped from his throat felt like it should have drawn blood; it could have for all he knew because all there was in the world was the scent of burning flesh and the white-hot riot of pain eating away at his consciousness. 

He clung to awareness with all that he was, breathing through the pain as best he could. The damage was bad, but not so bad as it could have been. A spell like that could have easily turned him instantly to ash. He was still alive which meant he still has a chance. 

Apparently they wanted his power, after all. 

He attempted to move but could only cry out as agony split his back. Tears of pain and frustration ran down his face as he tried again. It couldn’t end like this. He wouldn’t let it!

“Shhh, Merlin. It’s alright.” 

That honey-venom voice reached him through his pain, urging him on to get back on his feet so that he could defend himself. 

“This was the inevitable outcome, you know. Perhaps if you’d had more time, more training. There’s enough raw power in you that you could have posed a threat once it matured.” She stepped around so that Merlin could see her silk-slippered feet in front of his face. She knelt, turning his head just enough that he could see her face. 

“Now that power will serve a higher purpose.” She stroked a deceptively gentle caress down his cheek. “It was wasted on the likes of you, anyway.” 

With those final words, she stood and turned from him hissing a spell as she did. Merlin felt the power wrap around him, leashing him to her so that he was dragged behind her as she walked. 

“Morgana, help Morgause to the Gateway. We’ve got what we came for.” 

Merlin was having a hard time breathing through his panic, ears ringing, head pounding in time with his heart. The pain from his back was exquisite as he was dragged over the rough surface of the ground. His magic was unresponsive as he tried, with endless futility, to throw something at the woman who held him; an abomination of all that he was taught to believe in. He couldn’t think. Every attempt was immediately consumed by the pain of his body, the pain of defeat, and the terrifying silence of the friends he’d been fighting beside. 

“Arthur!” he called out, struggling to turn his head and look for the others. “GwaAHH!!” His efforts to see had twisted his body, rolling him onto his damaged back and tearing a scream from him. Cruel laughter chimed from the women ahead of him as he landed again on his belly, their comments about his spirit and how it would lend to the potency of his power pushing him to ignore all else and _think._

He clawed at the ground in an effort to stop his progress deeper into the garden. The grass and soil seemed to cling to him, responding to his need as though it wanted to come to his aide. Some instinct in him reached out to the earth, understanding that it was his ally, asking this most stable of elements to lend him strength. This was not magic as it was taught to most, and where all other attempts at casting had failed, this simple request was answered.

Roots and vines sprung forth from the garden, wrapping around his wrists and arms, halting his progress. He could feel power coursing through him, soothing his pain and slowly knitting his flesh. 

“ _Snæde!_ ” the plants holding him snapped apart as Nimueh’s power flipped him on his back once more. He expected pain, but the strength of earth was still with him, the moisture in the soil joining the moisture of his flesh to speed his healing. 

As he lie there contemplating the strange sense of connection he was experiencing, Nimueh came into his line of sight, looming over him, her fury creating a shimmering aura around her. “Give up Merlin!” She sounded almost exasperated. “Your pathetic attempts at saving yourself are embarrassing. Your father would die of shame if he could see you clinging at grass and twigs as your salvation. That is, of course, if he weren’t already _dead_.” 

Her words were meant as another distraction. He could see that clearly. He could feel through her power the confusion and frustration. The spell she cast should have rendered him helpless, but he’d managed to break through it somehow. She didn’t understand. Nor did she understand that the blow she attempted in reminding him of his father’s death would only serve to galvanize his resolve. The elements were his ally; his to call on and direct. Even as Nimueh stood attempting to cow him into submission, the earth held him fast, cradling him like a babe in arms. 

He felt the moment when her fury spiked. She was not happy with his lack of response and she was determined to make him suffer for it. 

“ _Alíese hine!”_ She snapped, snatching Merlin from the hold of the earth to a standing position that left him hovering several inches from the ground facing Nimueh. The pain returned in a flood as the physical connection was broken, robbing him of the peace and clarity that he’d gained. She smirked at the evidence of his pain, stepping to him and placing a hand over his chest. 

“ _Weorc untoworpenlic.”_

Pain coursed through his body, wiping all else away. He didn’t feel himself being guided forward through the air, the urgency of the forward momentum deeper into the garden. His next moment of awareness had him moving toward a ring of stones whose center pulsed with ancient power.

_'Gateway.'_ The word whispered in the back of his mind, a memory of words spoken what seemed like years before, but he logically knew had only been minutes. The meaning of that power took a moment to translate, but when it did… 

“No!” Merlin fought feebly, but he fought. The last of his strength was sent into the air, calling on the same natural power that had helped him before. Nimueh tripped. Her concentration faltered sending Merlin back to the ground with her. She actually snarled this time, swiping a hand at her ankles and struggling back to her feet. Merlin understood that the earth had answered him, roots and vines rising up to tangle her feet as they had held him before. He also understood that this was his final chance to save himself.

Embracing again the power that held and nurtured him, he encouraged the earth to continue its hold on the sorceress. Roots and vines reached up to snare her as she tried to stand. She continued hissing her spells and swiping her hands to sever the bonds.

“Really, Merlin,” she growled. “You think a few vines are going to be enough to stop me?” 

A whispered spell set the ground at her feet aflame, instantly engulfing the plants that attempted to reach for her. The fire licked at her robes, but didn’t catch, illuminating her from below into a terrible vision of damnation. 

“You cannot escape me,” 

She was right. He was too tired, too weak. Every defense he launched proved futile and he knew that he would ultimately fail. But he would not give in to her. Reaching within, he broke past the barriers that held his power in check. His Mark was not complete. Connecting to such power might burn him out before he could be used to fuel Nimueh’s corruption. He fell into himself, allowing the connection to earth to take him, his will merging with the power there. 

He was reminded of the training field and the excess power he held then. There had been a presence rising before, something ancient and powerful that lived within him. He felt that presence again, closer to the surface than it had ever been. Gold washed out his vision once more and he opened his eyes to face his nemesis.

Roots from deep in the earth had risen to wrap around her legs, and despite the flames and magic that she hurled, the roots held firm. Merlin watched in fascination from behind his own eyes as the roots grew, climbing further up her body.

“Sister!” she called out, attracting the attention of both Morgana and Morgause, who had been tending to each other’s wounds near the stone circle. Both women rose and began rushing to Nimueh’s aid, flinging curses at Merlin and using magic to tear at the bonds that held Nimueh in place. His body acting on its own, he swiped a hand and flung the other women away, attention focusing on the woman in his hold. She was still fighting him, resisting wildly and hurting the land in her attempt to escape. This couldn’t be allowed. She was twisted, broken. Damaged in ways that couldn’t heal on their own. 

_The strength of earth and water can heal. She is born of these things; to these she must return._

The thought was his but not as well. The presence that was consuming him directed the power around them, directing the earth to seek like for like. Fascinated, he watched as the roots began merging with her body, no longer simply holding her, but becoming part of her. Roots and legs became one. Skin to bark. Bone to wood. By the time that Nimueh realized what was happening, there were leaves sprouting from her fingers, her body becoming rigid and difficult to move. 

“What?” she looked down at herself in horror, eyes meeting Merlin’s full of fury and despair. “ _No! How are you doing this!? Release me!”_ She raised her hands and lifted he head in an instinctive attempt to move away from the fate that flowed from the ground. “ _SISTER!!”_  

It was the last sound she made. A hopeless plea answered a moment later by an anguished cry from where the other two had been flung. 

_“What have you done!?”_ Morgause, was there, the depth of her pain ripping Merlin from the haze of power that had consumed his conscious mind. As full awareness flooded back into him, he was left shaking, shocked and confused by what had happened. What _had_ he done, and more importantly, _how_ had he done it? This kind of transfiguration was magic that was not supposed to be possible. It was one thing to change the color of an object, or shift its shape, but to turn a human into a _tree!?_ There were legends, of course, of such things happening long ago when the world was young and magic was new, but it shouldn’t have been possible in a world were magic was fading. It shouldn’t have been possible at all! 

_“Monster!”_ Morgause was inconsolable, tears streaming through the grime on her face. Merlin, still dazed and too full of magic, felt her gathering power for an attack and raised his hand to halt her. 

“She’s not dead,” he rasped, realizing the truth of the words only as he spoke them. He knew that she wasn’t dead. Nimueh was still in there, possibly aware of all that was happening around her. Merlin didn’t know if that made him feel better about what he’d done or worse. He swallowed past a throat gone dry and struggled upright from his kneeling position. His body was sore, muscles twitching and shaking as he battled for control of himself, but he could tell that the healing had continued. Though his back was still a riot of pain, it was bearable, allowing him to move under his own strength when he couldn’t before. 

“I…” he search within before speaking to be sure he spoke truth. “I can undo the spell,” he said, looking past Morgause when he saw movement over her shoulder. Morgana stood there, swaying slightly, face empty of expression or emotion. Merlin’s heart squeezed within his chest, still feeling lost and confused over all that had happened. How could a sorceress do such a thing to one of her own kind? He looked to the human tree he had created and pondered hypocrisy. 

“I will undo the spell,” he continued, “but only if you end this.” Putting as much force as he could manage into his voice, he met the blonde woman’s eyes. “It is my duty to protect magic, even from itself. I cannot allow you to continue destroying lives. It has to end!” 

“Duty?” Morgause spat, sneering down her nose at him. “You’re a child. What do you know of duty? What could you possibly--” 

“I am the Emrys,” he said simply. “My only will and purpose in this world is to protect the magic and those it choses to work through. You have already done enough harm. End this. Please. Release Morgana and any others that you’re controlling. Stop the experiments you’re conducting. Stop stealing magic! I don’t want there to be any further bloodshed. It has to stop, _now_.” 

He shivered at his own words, acknowledging that no one had come looking for him yet. He still heard no signs of life from the garden’s entrance. Had Arthur and Gwaine been lost to this conflict as his father had? How many lives would be sacrificed for this mad bid for more power?

“Fine,” Morgause said, the word choked out as if her body was trying to keep her from speaking. “Bring her back, and I will do as you say. We will surrender.” 

“Forgive me if I don’t trust your word alone.” A tiny spark of hope had kindled somewhere in Merlin’s chest, but he didn’t trust that either. He wished he could believe that the solution could be so simple, but he knew better. 

Her eyes blazed with power for a moment at his comment, and Merlin felt the heat of her fury wash over him but raised a hand in warning. 

“If you want her back, you’ll hold your peace and allow me to bind you to be sure you won’t try anything.” Merlin’s mind was working franticly. Even if Morgause agreed to surrender, there was nothing to hold her to it, and once Nimueh was back in the game there was no guarantee that she would be subdued enough to not pose a threat. Especially considering that his incomplete Mark was still a major liability. He needed back up. Alone, he was outnumbered and had easily been out maneuvered. He knew that Morgause was well aware of this. Nimueh’s condition was the only means he had of controlling the situation at all. 

And he was so tired. 

Rallying himself he probed at his power, and flinched away immediately. There was nothing but chaos within. All of the magic at his core was screaming to be released. It was all that he could do to contain it once he sought its presence, and he marveled at how he had managed so long. Then he remembered the calm stillness of earth; the soothing touch of water. 

“Put your hands on the ground,” he told Morgause, carefully lowering himself to spread his fingers into the grass. He immediately felt more stable, the strength beneath him lending him support. Morgause’s hesitation grated at his nerves, he didn’t have time for this. 

“Would you like to become a matching shrubbery?” he snapped. “Hands on the ground now!” 

Morgause glared at him as she followed his instructions. Turning away from the chaos within, Merlin tried again to reach that other power. He felt his connection with earth, and made his request known. The roots from below answered as they did before. It didn’t take long for a thick casing of sturdy wood to be wrapped around her hands and arms past her elbows. It would take her a while to escape it if that was her intent. Rising from his position, he moved around Morgause to direct Morgana closer to the other two. The next part he wasn’t completely positive about, but he thought it worth the attempt at least. 

He walked a circle around the three women, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes to feel the air around him. He sought out the feeling of connection that was becoming so familiar. Air was more fleeting, not stable like earth or nurturing like water. Air was flirty, teasing, but still obviously part of him in ways he’d never understood before. With earth below, air above, and water infusing both, he focused on his desire for the women within the circle he walked to stay where they were until he returned to release them. He opened his eyes to see a barrier shimmer into place, shocked, despite the request, to see that it had worked. 

This was magic unlike anything that he’d ever learned or studied; magic that wasn’t about taking and manipulating power, or willing an action by force. Rather, it was about becoming the power, joining with it so that its will and yours were one and the same. He couldn’t wait to talk to Gaius about it. There had to be precedent for this. Surely with his wealth of knowledge, his godfather would know what this magic was. 

A bit more steady on his feet now, Merlin checked that his prisoners were still in place before making his way towards the front of the garden as quickly as he could. He thought the binds and shield would hold, but he didn’t understand this new power enough to feel any confidence in it. He needed to check on the others and bring back help to contain his prisoners if he could. As much as he loathed the stolen power Arthur and his men used as tools, it was the only thing Merlin could think of that might be strong enough to bind the women for transport when the time came. 

He stumbled through the darkness of the garden, finding that he had no trouble making his way through the dense foliage. It was almost as if the brush was making way for him. In fact, he had the uncomfortable feeling that that was exactly what was happening. Before he could ponder the concept for too long, he saw the light of the garden’s entrance ahead. Heart speeding in his chest, he stepped out of the tree line and was greeted with the sounds of safeties being released as guns were trained on him. He froze and raised his arms, eyes wide with shock. 

There was definite relief as he recognized the figures leveling weapons at him, but he had not been prepared for the condition of the garden’s entrance. He knew that the lightning had done damage, but he didn’t fully realise the level of destruction that had been wrought. The ground was almost entirely scorched black, huge craters created in some places where the strikes had been particularly powerful. Clearly, help had arrived none too soon! 

“Merlin? Is that you?” The most welcome voice he could have possibly imagined.

“Gaius!” Merlin nearly collapsed with relief. “You’re here!”

“Give us some warning next time, eh Merlin?” Percival said lowering his weapon. “With what’s happened here, we were ready to shoot first and ask questions later, yeah?” 

“With our Merlin, the bullets are like the bounce right off.” 

“Gwaine!” Merlin rushed forward to where Gaius was helping a battered Gwaine into a sitting position. Beside him, Lance was doing the same for Arthur. “You’re both alright!” he crowed, feeling lighter than he had since this entire affair had begun. 

“Relatively speaking,” Arthur groaned, wincing as Lance put pressure on a clearly painful spot on his leg. “The shield protected us from the worst of it. Looks like you weren’t quite as lucky.” 

As if called to life by mentioning it, the burn on Merlin’s back exploded with pain along with any number of other aches that covered his body. He winced, sucking in a breath as he worked to ignore it once more. 

“That actually came after,” he said through gritted teeth. “Speaking of which, do any of you still have those things that can bind magic?” He shuddered at the thought of using such a device on another magic user, but it was the only way he could think to keep Morgause and Nimueh under control until his Mark was complete. 

The Dragons all shared looks for a moment, the team looking in the end to Arthur. He nodded once, and Elyan produced a pair of what looked like handcuffs from one of the pouches on his belt. Merlin didn’t take them, but nodded back towards the clearing where he’d left Morgause. 

“Will one of you come with me to put them on Nimueh and Morgause?” he asked.

“Wait, you mean they’re still _here?!_ ” Arthur was immediately struggling to his feet, ignoring Gaius and Lance’s attempts to keep him down. “And you left them _alone?_ ”

“Bound and shielded,” Merlin said defensively, following Arthur as he moved deeper into the garden, following the path Merlin had emerged from. He saw how the others hesitated to follow, remembering belatedly that they were still being affected by whatever it was that kept mundanes from going deeper into the garden. Gaius had no such problem and was in full glowering mode as he moved forward, mouth open ready to protest but Merlin stopped him. 

“I may have gotten this under control,” he said. “A lot has happened that I need to tell you about, but Morgause seems to be willing to cooperate, I’m just doing this as a precaution. I’ve got leverage of a sort.” He rubbed his neck wryly, anxious to be done with this so that he could lie down and sleep for a few weeks. “Will you stay and keep an eye out on this lot? They’re not very familiar with this kind of magic, and Arthur and I shouldn’t be long.” Gaius closed his mouth and sighed. 

“Very well, Merlin,” he said, resigned. “But I expect you to come back as soon as you’re done. Someone needs to examine your back.” Merlin avoided thinking about that and just smiled at Gaius instead. He followed the path that Arthur had taken, expecting to find him waiting at the boundary of his shield, but he was nowhere in sight. Morgause and Morgana were where he’d left them, beside the Nimueh tree. Their heads were bowed as if in prayer. The shield still shimmered, golden and intact, woven of elemental power. Everything seemed as it should be, but...where was Arthur? 

He turned his attention to the tiny thread of bond that existed between them. It’s pull came from directly behind him. He turned to find Arthur stepping from the foliage. 

“Don’t tell me you were taking a piss at a time like this?” Merlin joked, relief washing away the niggling concern that had been there a moment before. Arthur said nothing. 

He did, however, raise his gun and fire. 

Pain exploded through Merlin’s shoulder sending him falling back against his shield, crying out in confusion and pain. The bullet was wedged in, and he could feel it doing something; could feel the corrupted power blending with his own and activating, feeding that chaos that was already raging within. He desperately tried to clamp down on power that he knew would spiral out of control at the slightest disruption of his containment, but was shocked to find that he didn’t need to. He sought his magic, tried to call on it, but found that where it could barely be held back before, now it was oddly just out of reach, surging madly then falling away, over and over. 

This was worst than before. The pain of his body was nothing compared to the fight being waged between his natural power and the unnatural, corrupted power that was keeping it at bay. The corruption would not hold him back for long. With every surge he felt his power shoving at the other with greater and greater fervor. The struggle was tearing him apart from the inside. 

“Inhibitor rounds,” Morgause’s voice said from beyond the barrier as he slid to the ground, writhing in pain. “Horrid little things aren’t they? They prevent the active potential of anything you try to do through magic. Your power will be quite useless until the thing is removed. Fighting it will only damage you in the end.” 

Merlin understood the truth of her words, but was helpless to stop his magic from fighting. He had no control and the power surging was not a directed spell. It was just raw magic attempting to force its way out. Merlin could do nothing to stop it. He groaned as he forced himself to sit up, leaning against the shield for support, blinking away involuntary tears and clutching at his shoulder as though that alone could keep him from flying apart. He looked up at Arthur, emotions too numb to properly respond. The same blank stare he’d seen on Morgan was there in Arthur now. He was under Morgause’s thrall. 

“Thank you so much for sending him to me,” she crooned from behind. Merlin’s body quaked as he struggled around to face his enemy. She smiled, standing free of the bonds that had held her down. “I was wondering how I would disable your power long enough for me to reach you, but now...” 

She met his eyes as she very deliberately placed her hand on the shield and whispered: 

_“Scæne.”_

He felt it as the shield shattered, a wrenching pain that echoed through the earth and air around him. His body fell forward, without the shied to lean against, and landed at her feet face down. She kicked him roughly to his back pressing a foot into the open wound at his shoulder, pulling a scream from his throat. Arthur stood over him, looking blankly ahead, non-responsive.

“You are powerful, Merlin,” she said, prowling around him, holding the skirts of her robe in one hand. “I’ll acknowledge that. The spell you’ve cast on my sister is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I cannot undo it. But,” she paused, and in a tiny shimmer of light and power, a thin crooked blade appeared in her hand. “You forget that you aren’t Safe yet.” 

She lowered herself to kneel just at his head, calling on power to hold him still as she lowered the blade and traced it over his cheek. It was so sharp the barest pressure broke the skin. He felt a line of pain travel down his face as she spoke next. 

“I imagine that once all of that power is mine...” the blade pause above the tender flesh of his neck, hovering over his Mark that was so close to being whole. Not close enough. “I’ll just break the spell myself.” 

With those words, she whipped the blade across his neck, splitting the skin over his Mark. The cut wasn’t deep enough to kill, no, that wasn’t the purpose of the act. He watched as she sliced the blade against her palm, then reached down, pressed her hand to his neck, mingled their blood. He felt the connection form between them immediately, and knew that it was over. She began speaking, words in the old tongue filling the air with intent and power. He didn’t know the spell, but the words shook through his blood, resonating with his core.

_“Ríce dæl ond spéonn be dréor, íc ábrice þæs insegel uppan ðú. þæs mircels sy mín. þæs mircels sy mín!”_  

The lines of his Mark seemed to catch fire and his back arched off the ground as pain alighted every nerve in his body. He’d never felt something so wrong. Everything in him fought against it, but there was little he could do. His power was torn away, and with it, all of Merlin’s conscious awareness of what was happening around him. All he knew was pain. It was as if his skin had been ripped from his body leaving nothing but exposed nerves and a desperate need for it to be _over._  

And then it was. The pain stopped. The world faded back into being around him, but it was _wrong._ Everything felt heavy and muted and so, so cold. He felt himself trembling and only then noticed that there were arms around him, cradling and holding and soothing. It didn’t help. There was part of him that felt relief at seeing Arthur mostly well and whole. He shuddered at the memory of the blank look in his eyes while he was under Morgause’s influence. But it still wasn’t right, because there was supposed to be something more. The line of connection that had been there, that let him _feel_ Arthur, was gone. Everything was gone. The world was dark and silent, and he could feel himself fading into it. Soon, he would be like the world; dark and silent and cold. 

“Merlin, stay awake.” Arthur’s voice, firm and commanding. It pulled back Merlin’s attention, but it wouldn’t be able to for long. “Don’t you dare give up, you lack-wit,” he snarled. “This is _not_ over! Not by half. You will keep your eyes open, and you will _fight_ this! You’re more than your magic, Merlin! Whatever she’s taken, you can get it back!” 

“But you see he can’t.” The other voice floated down at him from what felt like far, far away. It was strained; sounded raw and shaky. “It’s mine now. He hasn’t the power to take it back.” Morgause’s words were colored with cruelty and triumph.

“It was wasted on him anyway. So much power...” 

Things drifted for a bit then. The next thing he remembered was being shaken rather roughly, malicious laughter echoing around him. Then something was grabbing and pulling, lifting. Merlin’s eyes opened and he found himself suspended by magic, as before, inches above the ground, almost as if he were standing. Arthur was a few meters away, eyes stormy with rage though it was clear he was being held immobile. His blood sang with the proximity of power that was his by right, and he trembled with frustration as it was used against him. 

“That was a fascinating thing you did to my sister, Merlin,” Morgause crooned. “Very creative. I’ve never seen a spell like it, and you didn’t speak a word.” 

Her voice was unsteady, and he could see that she was struggling with the power she’d taken. She was powerful, and clearly far more experienced than Merlin, but that didn’t mean that she was ready for the magnitude of magic that Merlin represented, and he could tell that she was drawing the same conclusion. She would need to use some of it and find a way to offload more of it later. A detached part of him wondered how she expected to continue holding that power when it was so obvious that it was more than she could take. The magic wouldn’t dry-up with time. No matter how much she offloaded, it would simply regenerate. 

“I’ll need to work out what you did before I’ll be able to undo it on Nimueh,” she gasped focusing her attention on Arthur. “Isn’t it convenient that we have a volunteer here to help me?” 

Dread flooded Merlin’s gut. The world began swimming out of focus before his eyes as panic took over again. She intended to test his stolen power on Arthur. She had no clue what it could do, and she was going to... 

Images of mutilated bodies and twisted limbs flashed before his eyes. There was a reason that there was so much focus on training young sorcerers. Magic could go very, very wrong in the hands of the ill experienced. She knew this. He could tell. She would take great pleasure in destroying Arthur before Merlin’s eyes, knowing that it would break him; knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop her. 

And it would all be for nothing. No matter what she tried, she would never be able to reproduce the magic that he had used to change Nimueh’s body. It wasn’t born of the magic within, but how could he explain the strange power that had answered his need when he didn’t understand it himself? 

“Please,” he managed, caring nothing for dignity or pride. He could accept many things in his life, but not this. He couldn’t watch...he couldn’t hang there helpless whilst she... Not again. Not so soon after his father… 

“Me,” he rasped. “ _Me_.” 

“Shut _up_ Merlin!” Arthur growled, but Merlin ignored him. He was dying anyway. If Morgause felt the need to take vengeance or toy with someone to try to figure out how to bring Nimueh back, he would gladly volunteer. 

“It won’t work,” he told her. “The magic I used…it’s special; different.” He swallowed around a tongue that felt too big for his mouth. “Take me. I’ll try to teach you. Just leave Arthur alone.”

Morgause smiled at him, raking her eyes over his body even as she trembled with the effort of maintaining control.

“Tempting,” she said, voice slick and saccharine sweet, “but somehow I doubt I can trust your word.” 

With no further warning, she lifted her chin and her eyes flashed gold. It was the color of Merlin’s magic, and he _ached_ as it moved past him through the air; _shook_ as it struck Arthur, and cried out in sympathy at Arthur’s broken scream. 

The magic had struck Arthur’s arm, twisting and warping it into something that resembled bark, but was made of flesh and bone. He could hear crunching tearing sounds over Arthur’s screams, his body taking a shape that was foreign and wrong. Merlin felt his stomach cramp and threaten to expel its contents. He didn’t want to see, but he couldn’t abandon Arthur, even if Arthur was unlikely aware that Merlin was there anymore.

“Clearly that’s not quite right,” Morgause mused. The way she tilted her head to the side, observing her work, made it look as though she were genuinely baffled by Merlin’s spell; like she was honestly trying to figure it out. It didn’t matter. She lifted a hand and did something else, and Merlin railed against her hold as Arthur screamed again. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t watch this. She’d cast, and the power would do something, and all the while Arthur was there, eyes wide and frantic, nearly mad with pain. 

“This is almost fun,” Morgause laughed, undoing one deformity only to cast another. Arthur’s body was becoming a grotesque sculpture of woody protrusions, stone-like patches, and pale imitations of greenery. His blood ran from places like sap, but all the while, his eyes… 

Through it all, he was still aware, but he wouldn’t be able to take much more. Merlin could see that Arthur was fading away, lost, perhaps forever, in a haze of pain and horror. Merlin couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t. He had to protect Arthur. He had to _do_ something. _Anything._

Clumsily, he sought out the power that had helped him before. If he could just connect to it again somehow. If he could just— 

A spark. 

Something jolted through him as the air around him understood what he needed even as he failed to put a name to it. He saw Morgause falter, hand flying to her neck where his stolen Mark lay. 

“I don’t know how you’re resisting me,” she hissed, turning blazing eyes on Merlin. “But I won’t let you stop me.” 

With an imperious rise of her head, Morgause sent a wave of magic at him that sent Merlin flying. It was a blow meant to knock him out and away, and it did that. He slid far into the garden, farther than was natural, even with the force of her power. The blow knocked him senseless, but he could feel something guiding him. Something _pulling_. 

_“You have a great destiny, young warlock,”_ the dragon’s voice rumbled through his half conscious mind. “ _You will not perish at the hands of the witch. This night, your future begins.”_  

As the last words echoed through his mind, he felt his body fall into a cold embrace. Water, he realized. The pool at the heart of the garden. This place had saved him before, and even as he became fully aware of what was happening, he felt it guide him gently down. Part of him knew that he should be panicking— the water was unnaturally deep and he hadn’t the strength to swim— but he knew that there was nothing of fear for him here. The water was welcoming, guiding him to something safe, and now that he knew what it was, he could feel the pull of connection surrounding him, embracing him, lending him strength. 

At the bottom of the pool, there was light. He was aware enough to realize that his eyes were closed, but somehow, he could see it, brilliant and dazzling in the water’s depths. He realized that the light he was seeing wasn’t light in a literal sense. It was magic. _His_ magic; magic that had been waiting for him to claim once his Mark had matured and he’d come of age. 

He could feel it through the connection to all that surrounded him, but the connection didn’t end there. As he focused on the light, his body seemed to fade, the pain and fatigue of his flesh gone. He could feel the connection reaching, through the earth, through the air, through the fire and energy that fueled every living thing. Light flared around him, bright and hot in some, muted in others, but he knew it all. He belonged to all of it and… 

All of it was _his._

Merlin felt that familiar terrifying presence rise in him once more, then… 

He turned from the light and called to the water instead. The light was unnecessary. It had shown him the way, but now he understood. The world was full of light. He could see it now, flowing golden everywhere his sight touched. The water lifted him level with the ground splashes of gold against shimmering soil. One step, and he was back in the clearing, Morgause torturing Arthur with power that she did not deserve or understand. It was his and he would take it back. 

His hand was around her neck before she knew he was upon her, covering his Mark. With a thought, it returned to him, and his nerves shimmered with the return of power. He threw the woman aside and turned to Arthur, mangled and whimpering where he remained suspended above the ground. Another thought and he was whole, the ravages that had been laid upon his flesh wiped from his body and mind as well. 

_As it should be._  

His eyes fell to Morgana who still sat staring blankly at Nimueh’s tree. With a thought, he was kneeling beside her, a finger to her forehead sending a pulse of power through her mind to cleanse it of the taint that had been controlling her. 

He turned his eyes to Nimueh, the tree that she was, that he had made. _Better this way. The poison can be leeched away._ He could make it permanent. She would never hurt anyone again, and perhaps she would finally find peace, forced to see the passing of time and understand her place in it. He could do the same to Morgause. The woman was as poisoned as this one. She, too, could learn peace in watching the endless march of time. 

He saw the fear shining from the blonde woman’s eyes. Terror of what he could and would do. The one with dark curls was looking at him as well. She had power of her own; power that echoed through him, familiar and strong, but she was looking to the blonde woman, confused and afraid. He could fix that. The blonde one had hurt her. He could touch her mind again and clean it of all memories of the pain. It would be such a simple thing... 

A staff halted his attempt to reach out, and he found himself gazing into the eyes of another, lines of light illuminating this other from within. 

“You must not, Lord Emrys,” the man said. Bald with a series of tiny Marks around his neck. “The power is too great. It has come to you too soon. It will consume you if you continue.” 

He could only tilt his head in incomprehension. Power too great? It was not. It was _his_. His to take. His to _use_. He alone understood its will and it was his right to bring that will into being. Words escaped him. They were small and meaningless in the face of all that he was. The man was no longer worth his attention. He shoved him away with a thought, and returned his focus to the women in the clearing. Dark curls had retreated to the blonde and they were both huddled together near the woman-tree he’d created. They would all be lovely like that, frozen forever in an organic sculpture.

_Wood,_ he thought, and found it fascinating how they clung to each other as the earth answered his call. _Or perhaps stone._  

The bald man was there again, but this time, there was a flash of power and light; something that struck between his eyes. White-hot fury flooded him, but there was something about the power that had touched him, familiar and also his. The world faded around him. He had time enough to see that there were others. Others he felt that he should know standing around him, watching. 

Power surged somewhere to his side. The Gateway, he knew – A path between the Dragon’s Garden and its sister garden on the isles of Avalon. He wanted to prevent the escape but found he could not. The Blonde was taking Dark-curls when she wasn’t supposed to. He needed to stop her, to stop both of them… 

But he was falling. The light was fading from his vision. In his last moments of clarity, Merlin was able to surface long enough to register panicked blue eyes, dirty golden hair, and a tiny thread of connection that blazed golden and felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm including translations of spell things just to get across the general idea I was going for, but by no means are these accurate, grammatically correct words or phrases. I shudder to think what this looks like to anyone in the know ^^;
> 
> **aliese hine** – Deliver him
> 
> **Alíese** – Rise up!
> 
> **Weorc untoworpenlic!** \- Inviolable suffering!
> 
> **Scæne** – to break or shatter
> 
> **Ríce dæl ond spéonn be dréor, íc ábrice þæs insegel uppan ðú. þæs mircels sy mín. þæs mircels sy mín!** – Power shared and joined by blood, I break the seal upon you. The seal is mine. The seal is mine!
> 
> Epilogue, then it's off to the next one!


	16. Epilogue

Arthur’s eyes twitched open at the sound of rain on his roof, heart pounding, body trembling. His arm was cramped again, clawed and twisted in a memory of pain that his body remembered but his mind did not. Merlin had done that. Or rather, Merlin’s magic had done that and Arthur still wasn’t sure if he felt grateful or violated. It was a bit of both if he was honest with himself. 

The glowing green of the numbers on the clock to the right of his bed read four fifty-six. He’d woken almost an hour before his alarm was set to go off. He sighed and threw the covers back, climbing out of bed. He knew that he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep. He hadn’t been sleeping right for the past month now. Not since the night Merlin had vanished and Morgana had been taken. 

He walked to his en suite bathroom in hopes of washing the taint of his memories from his skin. It had all happened so fast. Merlin’s sudden fit. Nimueh and the other woman appearing at the school. Morgana siding with them. 

The rest was vague and confusing. He remembered Merlin in his arms, pale and shaking, the Mark that had been almost complete on his neck suddenly gone and blazing instead on the neck of the other woman, Morgause. He’d gotten files on her, since, that spoke of her ability to control others, and Morgana’s behaviour made a lot more sense knowing that. Arthur’s body had a tendency to quake inside when he thought of her, but he didn’t know why. 

After the moment of seeing Merlin on the ground bleeding, _dying,_ the next thing Arthur could remember involved eyes that were saturated in gold, and a cold distant face that should have been familiar. That look in Merlin’s eyes was one that haunted his nightmares still. He never wanted to see it again. He understood, then, why his father was afraid of such power; why he sought so desperately to control it. Arthur had truly feared magic for the first time in his life, and it was born from a source he never would have imagined. 

He never thought he would see a day when he would fear Merlin.

_It wasn’t Merlin,_ he reminded himself, stepping into the shower and letting the water hit him as hot as he could take it. The sting of it pushed the memories away, soothed the confusion. Let him focus on the now and the feel of his body as opposed to days long past. 

Gaius had explained afterward. After the group of strange warrior priests had come and subdued Merlin somehow and taken him away. After Morgana was gone. After his father had been contacted and brought in his own special team to track down the ones responsible. Arthur had been in the middle of it all, pushing away the liquefied feeling of his insides in favor of being the soldier his father expected him to be, but Gaius had been there too. Watching him, waiting, and stepping in to pull him out with a believable excuse as soon as he could.

_“He was overwhelmed by his own power,” his once mentor explained. “I’ve never seen it in my lifetime, but I’ve read about it before. Sorcerers with so much power that the power takes over; robs them of humanity. We’ve always known that he was different, special, but even I never imagined...”_

_“Where is he now?” Arthur asked, his voice rasping from his throat. “What will happen to him?”_

_“The Catha have taken him,” Gaius said. “They will serve a very important role in Merlin’s life from this point forward. They are duty-bound to not only protect the Emrys of each generation, but to also be in a position to subdue if it becomes necessary. The technique Alator employed tonight has not been needed for over a century, but it only confirmed something that the Catha and Druids have both believed since the day Merlin was born.”_

_Gaius‘ words were heavy with sadness. Arthur wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he nodded for Gaius to continue anyway._

_“He isn’t simply the next Emrys in a long line of sorcerers who wore that mantle as a title. He is the true Emrys, reincarnated into the world. One whose existence has fallen to myth and legend and even those have been forgotten with time by all except those who are closest to the magic of the world.” Arthur just stared at him, not understanding. Gaius clearly read that in him and sighed as he continued. “Arthur, Emrys was the first sorcerer, the one who brought magic to the human world. Born directly from the wild magic at the same time as the first dragons and unicorns.”_

_“If that’s true, then such a creature would hardly be human at all.”_

_“Indeed,” Gaius agreed. “According to legend, Emrys was meant to be a bridge; connected directly to the source of all magic to walk the land and bestow the gift upon those found fit. Emrys was responsible for mingling the blood of dragon’s with the blood of humans, giving rise to the first dragonlords. Emrys was responsible for blessing the land and it’s living with power, creating the Druid nation and all manner of magical creatures. And when all the magic was spread and passed and mingled with the life in the world, Emrys faded, gifting the last of the power in that form to a small child who would grow to become the first Emrys in the sense that we know.”_

_Arthur was silent for a long moment. “So this Emrys creature gave up bits of itself to bring magic into the world?”_

_Gaius nodded. “So legend would have us believe.”_

_“And you think that Merlin is this Emrys, born again into a world where magic is dying.” Gaius nodded, and Arthur really didn’t like where this was going. “Then what does that mean for Merlin?” He asked, refusing to put the pieces together. What did it matter that magic seemed to be dying, it wasn’t Merlin’s responsibility to become some kind of sacrifice to the world just because he had a little more magic than anyone else._

_Gaius only sighed, shoulders hunching with the weight of all that had happened. “I don’t know, Arthur,” he said, not meeting Arthur’s eyes. It was a sure sign that Gaius had the same thoughts that Arthur did and simply did not want to admit to them. “What I do know is that if he truly is the Emrys of legend, now that he’s come into his power, there is a good chance that Merlin will fade as Emrys rises. I haven’t a clue what that will mean for any of us if it does indeed happen.”_

Arthur shook his head under the spray of water in the shower, pulling himself out of the memory. There was nothing he could do now. He had to find Morgana. It was what his father had charged him with. He and his team were active now, and Uther was planning something, but Morgana came first. Nothing else could matter, not even Merlin. 

But try as he did, he couldn’t forget. There was something stirring in his chest, some feeling, some connection that he didn’t understand but made him think of Merlin. The feeling had been there in the last days they shared at Camelot, but it had been quiet since that time had ended. Arthur was sure that it was his imagination, but there were times that he would swear that he could feel something tugging at him, calling to him, missing him. 

He didn’t know what it meant, but he chose to believe that it meant that Merlin was out there somewhere, thinking of him, and that when the time was right, they would find each other again. 


End file.
